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THE GREAT AMERICAN BOOK OF BIOGRAPHY 

Illustrious Americans 

THEIR LIVES AND GREAT ACHIEVEMENTS, 

KMBkAClNf", 

BOOK I. THE GREAT FOUNDERS OF THE REPUBLIC. 
I HE NOBLE BUILDERS OF OUR UNION. 
THE GREAT GENERALS OF THE CIVIL WAR. 
THE HEROES OF THE AMERICAN NAVY. 
OUR GREAT PRESIDENTS AND STATESMEN. 
OUR GIANTS OF INVENTIVE ACHIEVEMENT. 
OUR SUCCESSFUL MEN OF BUSINESS. 
OUR GREAT PULPIT ORATORS AND REFORMERS. 
OUR NOTED LITERARY MEN AND WOMEN. 
THE POLITICAL LEADERS OF THE PRESENT DAY. 

PREPARED BY A CORPS OF DISTINGUISHED WRITERS. 

HAMILTON W. MABIE, LL.B., WILLIAM GARNETT, D.C.L., ALLEN C. THOMAS, M.A., 

EDWARD S. ELLIS, M.A., PROF. W. W. BIRDSALL, W. FLETCHER JOHNSON, 

FRANCES E. WILLARD, AND OTHERS. 

INTRODUCTION 

BY EDWARD EVERETT HALE, LL.D., 

THH MOSI DlbllNCUlSHKD I'OLU ICAI. WRITKK IN AMHKICA. 



miustrateb witb fIDaGniflccnt jfulUpaoc ipbotocjravure portraits^ 

AND A WEALTH OF OTHER FINE ENGRAVINGS. 

"r I / 1 O " ^"^^ "^ great men all remind us , M 

'T^ X ' We can make our lives sublime, _, i i ^/ ^ ' 



BOOK 


II. 


BOOK 


III. 


BOOK 


IV. 


BOOK 


V, 


BOOK 


VI 


BOOK 


VII, 


BOOK 


VIII 


BOOK 


IX 


BOOK 


X 






And, (liparting, leave behind u>^ / Z' W 

Ktxit prints on the sands of time." 



INTERNATIONAL PUBLISHING COMPANY, 

PHILADELPHIA, PA., AND CHICAGO, ILL- 






Entered according lo Act of Congress, in the year 1896, Ijy 

\V. E. SCUUI^, 

in the office of the I.il>rarian of Congress, at VVasliinjjton. 

All rights reserved. 



INTRODUCTION 



BY EDWARD EVERETT HALE, D. D., 

Author of " T/if Man JVilhout a Country," etc. 



THE history of mankind is made up 
of the biographies of men. This is a 
simple enough thing to say, and yet it 
would seem, from a good many histories, 
that it had never occurred to their writers. 
It is quite certain, however, that we appre- 
ciate and understand the history of our 
race most thoroughly, in those periods 
where we know of the personal lives of 
many of the actors. The periods where 
we do not know anything of individual 
lives are to us dreary deserts. For in- 
stance, it would probably be fair to say 
that the reason we give the Dark Ages 
that bad name, is that most of us know 
little or nothing of the personal movements 
or of individual lives of men and women 
in those ages. 
The book in the reader's hands is compiled in the effort to bring together 
the lives of a hundred men and women who have led the United States since 
the middle of the last century. It is a very remarkable series. . The people of 
the United States in that time have e.xhibited a genius for the science of govern- 
ment, such as the world has never elsewhere seen. In a hundred and fifty years 
following the first settlement of these coasts, there grew up on the edge of the 
Atlantic Ocean thirteen States. At the time of the Revolution these States 
were strong enough to equip armies and navies, and to defeat George the Third, 
who supposed that he was the strongest monarch in Europe when the Revolu- 
tion began. The people in these thirteen States then had to organize forms of 
government wholly new for themselves and their successors. They took the 




EIiWARD EVERETT HALE, I). H 



6 INTRODUCTION. 

traditions and methods which had been developed in a century and a half, they 
studied with care the history of Europe, and they organized a set of constitu- 
tions which have made a new era in the political history of the world. In the 
first lives in this volume, the authors have tried to give to the careful reader 
some idea of the make-up of those men who engaged in work so remarkable ; 
and we shall be disappointed if the American reader does not appreciate more 
highly the successes of the great founders of the republic, from knowing more 
intimately the details of their lives and of their education. 

It is impossible to say that all these lives differ, in any one essential quality, 
from lives which have been led under the old civilizations of the European 
world. But in almost every one of them the reader will find a certain quality 
which he does not find in the average biography of persons brought up under 
European forms. If we compare a typical American with a typical European, 
the contrast is very strong. There is sometimes an American who has beeri 
educated in the European forms, and there is sometimes an inhabitant of the 
old continent who has been educated in unconventional forms, and in such a 
case the contrast between these two would not be strong. But, speaking in 
general, we may say that the book in the reader's hands will give him, if he 
reads it carefully, a good conception of what we mean when we speak of the 
American type, and so it will perhaps show to him how the history of the world 
has been affected by that providence which, in the discovery of America, gave 
white paper for the writing of its history. 



The misfortune of most biography is a certain blindness which comes over 
the writer, when he forgets that his special business is to show his hero to the 
reader, and that he is not engaged, in the first instance, to crive the cjeneral 
history of the hero's time. Even Mr. Irving lapsed here when he wrote his 
Life of Washington. There are whole chapters of that life in which Washing- 
ton's name is not mentioned. INIore than half of it is a history of the United 
States, for the years when Washington was commander-in-chief of her army, or 
was President. On the other hand, the value of biography, as the common 
sense of the world has found out, is in such writing as Plutarch's. It may be 
doubted whether Plutarch were a very large man ; it is certain that he did not 
take very noble views, either of man, of God, or of history. But Plutarch had 
the great art of being entertaining. His speculations may be foolish, but his 
narrative is interesting. Whoever will carefully study his method, will see that 
there was perhaps an advantage to Plutarch that he wrote before the days of 
printing, and, in most cases, some centuries after the men had died whom he 
described. The law of selection applied, therefore, for those things which were 
interesting about these men were still remembered, while die uninteresting 



INTRODUCTION. , 

things had sunk to the bottom and were forgotten, — by the mere law of the 
attraction of gravitation, one might say. Plutarch writes what had proved to 
interest mankind, and leaves the rest unwritten. And what is it that interests 
mankind ? Infallibly it is the narrative of events, if that narrative be enlivened 
by the personal characteristics of men engaged in the affair. In Plutarch's case, 
the most vivid of such characteristics shone through the dust and mist and 
smoke of centuries. He recorded what he knew, and did not record the rest, 
because he could not. 

The reader of this volume will find, as I hope, that the various accomplished 
authors who have been engaged In it have been working on the principle which 
is Illustrated In Plutarch's great success. We shall be disappointed if readers 
do not see how the personality of such great men has affected the time In which 
they lived. They ought to learn that what is called the drift of history, or the 
order of events, really results from the original life and purpose of the men and 
women who make up history. 

The European critics of American life, who have never seen American life 
with their own eyes, are apt to construct a theory regarding us and our history 
which has no real foundation. John Stuart Mill, for instance, at many different 
times, expressed his opinion that in a social order resting upon universal 
suffrage, men will be forced by the pressure of a common life Into a certain 
average existence. In which each man will resemble each other man, quite as so 
many shoe-pegs resemble each other when they are cut by the same machine. 
Mr. Mill does not say so, but If one were to give an illustration or two, he was 
afraid that an American Longfellow would be exactly like an American Lin- 
coln, or an American Franklin exactly like an American Benedict Arnold. To 
us, on this side of the water, who suppose that we are living In a world of per- 
sons curiously unlike each other, such grave criticisms as these by Mr. Mill, 
Mr. Matthew Arnold, and other critics, who are writing about that of which they 
know very little, seem amusing. The contrasts presented between different 
lives in this volume will show hov/ little danger we are In from this source, at 
least for several centuries. 

Careful readers, again, will observe one distinguishing mark of American 
life. In the youth of many of the actors in our great dramas, so much younger 
are they than most of the men distinguished In similar work In the Old World. 
Thus, when the war of the Revolution began, Washington was only forty-three. 
It Is amusing- to see how his younger friends venerated his age. Of his aides, 
Hamilton was nineteen when he commanded a battery In New York and first 
attracted Washington's attention. Lafayette was nineteen when he was 
wounded at Brandywine. Pickering, who was quartermaster-general when the 



8 INTRODUCTION. 

war ended, was but twenty-seven when it began. Knox was twenty-five. 
Nathan Hale, the hero of young Americans, was but twenty-one when he died 
for his country, and expressed his regret that he had but one Hfe to give for her. 
Of the five leaders in the founding of the nation, whose biographies we 
have here, the average age when the war began was but thirty-three. Adams 
and Jefferson, as is well remembered, were so young that they lived to see the 
greatness of their country half a century after that Declaration of Independence 
with which they had been so closely connected. 

The readiness with which young men thus come forward into positions of 
trust and authority is readily accounted for by anyone who has seen the condi- 
tions of a new settlement. Those conditions mark the arrangements of a rising 
State. The new town needs every one it can call into service. If a young 
man can do a man's work, he must. To revert a^ain to the conditions of the 
war of the Revolution, when Burgoyne had driven in the American advance on 
the shore of Lake Champlain, when there was danger that his well-equipped 
army might sweep through the whole valley of the Connecticut, the States of 
Massachusetts and Connecticut ordered out every boy who was above the age 
of fifteen to meet the invading force. If he could carry a musket, the boy was 
old enough and big enough. Conditions like those lead to the rapid advance 
of young men. And even when the circumstances have all changed, the 
power of such conditions, through generations before, shows itself all through 
the social order. 

The division into different books, which we have adopted, brings 
together those great characters who illustrate the service which has been 
rendered to our country in different fields of activity. The reader will readily 
note for himself the points at which the lives of these great men touch 
each other. He ought also to see how largely each life is affected by the influ- 
ences of republican government, and those conditions which belong to States 
in their youth or in their infancy. Fulton in his earlier life painted a portrait of 
Dr. Franklin, which is one of the curious memorials of that time. John Ouincy 
Adams is now most often remembered for the marvelous activity and spirit which 
he showed in his old age ; but, as the reader will see, his personal memories ran 
back to the days when he copied documents for his father in the time of the 
Revolution. Young men should remember, indeed, that all through his 
early diary we find his expressions of regret that he had not the skill of an 
orator, and it should encourage them to recollect that when he died he was most 
often called the "old man eloquent." 

But, without attempting in detail to show how closely the work of one of 
these heroes depends upon that of another, we ought to call the reader's atten- 
tion to that many-sidedness of American life which, in each case, compels strong 



INTRODUCTION. g 

people to occupy themselves in public affairs. To a true American, there must 
be no jealous seclusion of himself from his fellow-men. It is not simply that at 
each election he has his part to bear ; in every civil contest he must define his 
position. 

The literature of the country is therefore very closely connected with its 
politics, with its invention, with its discovery. Although at certain times we call 
very naturally upon the strongest men to go into the administration of the gov- 
ernment, on the whole we are well pleased if such a man as Beecher keeps his 
position in the pulpit of Plymouth Church, and does not seek an appointment 
as a diplomatist or a member of the House of Representatives. If Mrs. Stowe 
gives her prayer and thought and time and genius to writing " Uncle Tom's 
Cabin," we are as well pleased at the result as if she had been canvassing for 
votes in the choice of a supervisor for the schools. George Peabody spent 
most of his life in London ; the habits of his life were those of a banker and a 
financier. But, all his life through, he loved his country, and he believed in the 
principles on which the constitution of the country was founded. When the 
time came for the disposition of his great fortune, he was in touch with men of 
intelligence who knew the country better than he did, and he was able, therefore, 
to make the magnificent gifts which he made for education, for hospitals, and 
for the right study of history. He is to be remembered, therefore, as one of 
the real benefactors of America, with just as much gratitude as if he had 
served her in diplomacy, in Congress, or on the bench. And that man is a very 
careless reader who does not see that William Lloyd Garrison, quite outside of 
the administration of government, became a more important factor in the con- 
trol of the history of this country, than many of those persons who occupied 
high official positions. Indeed, the young reader should observe that many of 
those persons are now entirely forgotten, and would have no place in any col- 
lection of the real leaders of America. 

We shall, therefore, be very much disappointed if those who study this book 
do not learn the great lesson that he who does the duty next his hand, serves, 
in the providence of God, in the great purpose for which this nation exists, if 
only he loyally remember that he is a citizen of the nation and that the nation 
relies upon him. Alexander Hamilton may have thought, when he was a young 
man, that his genius was thwarted and humbled by the mercantile training to 
which he was bound. But it proved that Alexander Hamilton, precisely because 
he had a knowledge of financial and mercantile affairs, was the person on whose 
life the credit of the nation depended, in the great adjustment of its finances in 
the administration of Washington. George Washington himself may well have 
thought that in the monotonous services which he rendered, as one of the House 
of Burgesses in Virginia, he was throwing away abilities which deserved a nobler 
field. But in time the nobler field was opened, and it proved that George 



lo INTRODUCTION. 

Washington had been gaining that knowledge of men, and of the way to handle 
men, which was all-important for his country when he entered upon his great 
career. Of every person whose life is described here, the same could be said. 
They were "faithful in a few things," and because they were faithful there was 
given them the rule of great things. Henry Clay, with a marvelous gift of 
eloquence and with a careful preparadon for the bar, had at the same time made 
the larger study of the American people. He knew what it was and what it 
was not. He knew what it needed, and he forecast its destiny. Precisely 
because he understood this people better than did most of the older men who 
were around him, he became, one may say, their idol, and he was able to render 
service to his country which no closet-student, trained simply in the methods of 
older dynasties, could ever have done. In an entirely different line of life, the 
same is true of Andrew Jackson. Precisely because he did not trammel him- 
self with precedent or conditions, which even to a well-trained lawyer may have 
seemed important,^ — because, on the other hand, in the difficulties of frontier 
warfare he had accustomed himself to look at the national life, from a broad 
and at the same time practical point of view, — he saved the constitution when 
the constitution was really endangered. 



Tins book will fall into the hands of clubs and schools, for study more 
careful than is involved in one superficial reading. In introducing it to readers 
who study it, I make one suggestion, of which I hope they will try the value ; 
they will find similar suggestions made, with some detail of illustration, more 
than once in Miss Edgeworth's admirable suggestions for education. Let any 
group of readers cultivate the habit of impersonating, if they please, the char- 
acters whose lives interest them in American history, and bringing these people 
together for imaginary conversations, for common action, in such scenes and at 
such times as history will justify. Imaginary conversations, such as Madame 
de Genlis suggests ; imaginary correspondence, such as even classical writers 
were amused with, will prove not only amusing but of permanent value in giving 
a vivid sense of the life of older times. Better yet, perhaps, for the purpose 
of maintaining the life and interest of a club or society of readers, would be 
the dramatic representation, in a parlor or a school-room, of scenes such as 
bright pupils would imagine, which shall introduce several of the great men or 
women of whom they read. 

Thus, there is a curious home letter from a private soldier in Braddock's 
army, which makes it well-nigh certain that Franklin, at the age of forty-nine, 
met Washington when he was but twenty-three, as Braddock's army advanced 
toward its ruin. It would be easy, in some parlor theatricals, to represent the 
scene, to bring in these two men who were unconscious of their future greatness, 



INTRODUCTION. „ 

to surround them with such figures as those of Braddock and Gage and Morris, 
and in dialogue or in pantomime to interest the whole company. A date thus 
fixed, a transaction thus made real, take their places in memory, and, as an old 
friend says, "give something to knit upon " as one works out his own fabric of 
history. 

When the Revolutionary War began, every rencontre between the soldier? 
of England and those of America brought people together in such dramatic 
fashion. When Gage addressed Washington and Washington replied to him, 
parted only by the Charles River, it was with recollections of the time when they 
sat at the same mess-table, when they copied the same despatch, as they both 
served on the staff of Braddock. When Franklin met Lord Howe, in 1776, it 
was to recall the memory of how they had played chess together in London. 
When Clinton sailed into New York, after his repulse at Charleston, it was to 
show to the younger officers the streets and homes of the town where he had 
spent his boyhood, in which, probably, he was more at home than he was in 
London. Perhaps, indeed, when he passed the burial-ground by King's Chapel 
in Boston some one took pains to point out to him the grave of his relative, 
Isaac Johnson, Arbella Johnson's husband, who had come from the family home 
in England, which Clinton must have remembered well. Indeed, an accurate 
reader could bring together Jefferson, Jay, and Adams, in more than one imagin- 
ary colloquy, which would fix in the memory of all who saw those characters 
well presented the various contributions which such men made, for weal or for 
woe, to the progress of the nation. The contrast of the fanfaronade and love 
of glory of Paul Jones, against the drollery and simplicity of Franklin, and the 
half-concealed annoyance of John Adams, might make a very amusing scene in 
such a performance as I have suggested. It is not so easy to imagine Henry 
Clay in London, arranging with George Peabody how he may draw for money. 
But such men never met but that each of them affected the life of the other. 

I venture to recommend to all clubs or societies of young people who read 
this book together, that they try some such impersonations, which will bring 
history in visible form before them. The preparations will be in some regards 
more difficult, in some more easy, than they think at first. But it may well be 
that they shall find, in many instances, that they are working up some detail of 
the local history of the place in which they live, which would otherwise have 
been neglected and eventually forgotten. And such students should remember 
that there is many an attic which is yet to give up its store of old papers of 
great value in the working out of our history. 

It is generally said, and it is true, that thus far America has not developed, 
or at least has not shown, much power in the writing of entertaining memoirs. 
For the history of the Revolution the most vivid local color is supplied by those 
bright, accomplished young Frenchmen, to whom everything was a surprise, and 



12 



INTRODUCTION. 



who, therefore, wrote down what our own fathers thought a matter of course 
and left for forgetfulness. The gaps in our history, which are left by the inabil- 
ity of the fathers to write entertaining memoirs, must be supplied now from 
their ledgers and day-books and from the old correspondence, when by good 
fortune it has been preserved. What the artists call "local color," and the vivid- 
ness which is given by what they call "broken lights," may often improve our 
historical picture, if contributed by some antiquarian student who works with 
imagination. I cannot but hope that, by the wide circulation of this very book, 
there may be roused up some young Parkman or Prescott or Bancroft, who shall 
be tempted to make the researches which will bring to light memoranda of use, 
because of interest, in the construction of the history of the republic. 

Edward Everett Hale. 




MONUMENT TO COLUMIIUS AT GENOA. 



LIST OF CHAPTERS AND SUBJECTS. 



BOOK I. 

§mi Jfouitbcrs of t^e |{epubltt. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON, ,^gb 

Father and Founder of the Republic, 33 

Greatness of Washington's character — Virginia two centuries ago — Augustine Washington — George's 
early days — His mother — The young surveyor — A perilous journey — Braddock's expedition — Washing- 
ton's heroism — Marriage — Outbreak of the Revolution — Bombardment of Boston — Battle of Long Island 
— " How long shall we fly ?" — New Jersey campaign — A Christmas surprise — Aid from France — Lafayette 
— Valley Forge — Monmouth — Dark Days — Arnold's treason — The war in the South — Washington's 
descent upon Yorktown — Surrender of Cornwallis — Farewell to the army — Constitutional Convention — 
First President of the Republic — Anecdotes of Washington — Last days at Mount Vernon — The closing 
scene. 

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, 

The Inventor, Philosopher, and Statesman, 59 

A. self-made man — Franklin's autobiography — His character as a boy — His loye of books — The young 
vegetarian — Writing for the newspaper — Journey to Philadelphia — First sight of his future wife — 
Employment as a printer — Journey to England — A temperance missionary — Another start in busi- 
ness — The Junto — The secret of his success — He marries Miss Read — " Poor Richard's Almanack " — 
Defense of the Colonies — Franklin in demand — Postmaster-General — The War with France — How 
Franklin secured wagons — His mission to England — The Stamp Act — How to lose revenue and gain 
ill-will — A sum in arithmetic — The Continental Congress — Signing the Declaration of Independence 
— A grim joke — Franklin at Paris — His humane efforts to lessen the horrors of war— The Treaty of 
Peace — Return to Philadelphia — Letter to Thomas Paine — Franklin's death and burial — His epitaph. 

JOHN ADAMS, 

The Revolutionary Patriot and Statesman 75 

The great men of the Revolution — The pre-eminence of Adams — Boyhood and education — The young 
lawyer — Marriage — Aggressions of the British — The birth of American , Independence — The Boston 
Massacre — Adams defends the soldiers — Delegate to ths Continental Congress — Friendship with Jef- 
ferson — Drafting the Declaration of Independence — Adams's prophetic letter — Sent to France to secure 
aid — Contrast with Franklin — Adams not popular — His blunt manners — Negotiating the Treaty of 
Peace — Adams's success with the Dutch Government — His sickness in Paris — Terrible winter journey 
— Minister to England — His presentation at Court — An awkward moment — Return to America — The 
Constitutional Convention — Adams's dislike of France — Election to the Presidency — His failure to 
make friends — Retirement from public life — Adams in old age — His son's election to the presidency— 
Nearing the end — ^July 4, 1826, death of Adams and Jefferson. 

13 



14 LIST OF CHAPTERS AND SUBJECTS. 

JOHN JAY, 

The First Chief Justice of the United States, 93 

Jay's French Ancestry — Different kinds of heroism— Life in college — Refuses to be an informer — Studying 
law — Member of the Continental Congress — Address to the people of Great Britain — President of Con- 
gress — Chosen Minister to Spain — Trials of his new position — Begging and borrowing for America — 
The Treaty of Paris — Return to America — Secretary of State — The Constitutional Convention — Jay's 
important part — " The Federalist " — Its masterly ability — Washington's testimony to Jay's ability — The 
first Chief Justice — His opposition to slavery — Special mission to England — Jay's ability as a diplo- 
matist — Lord Sheffield's opinion—" The impolitic treaty of 1794" — Jay's return to America — Governor 
of New York — Retirement from public life — His death in 1829 — Jay's spotless character. 

ALEXANDER HAMILTON, 

The Architect of the Federal System, loi 

What a West India hurricane did for Hamilton — Goes to the United States for an education — Stories of 
his life at college — Excitement over British exactions — Hamilton's first speech — Aid-de-camp to Wash- 
ington — His literary ability — Financial studies — Marriage — Retirement from the ami) — The Constitu- 
tional Convention — The great men who composed it — Hamilton's pre-eminence — Opposition to the 
Constitution — Hamilton's able advocacy — Suspense in New York — Success at last — Hamilton first 
Secretary of the Treasury — His able administration— Talleyrand's anecdote — Retirement — Political 
disputes — The fatal duel. 

THOMAS JEFFERSON, 

The Pioneer of Democracy in America, 115 

Jefferson's sympathy with the common people — The success of his principles — His Virginia home — The 
young lawyer — His opinions on slavery — Marriage to Mrs. Skelton — Sent to the Continental Congress 
— Writing the Declaration of Independence — Cornwallis's depredations — Jefferson's losses — End of the 
war — Appointment as Foreign Minister — His popularity in France — Secretary of State under Washing- 
ton — Stormy politics — Jefferson and Hamilton opposed — Vice-President under Adams — Washington 
City in 1800 — Mrs. Adams' amusing account — The election of 1800 — Jefferson chosen President — Dis- 
may of the Federalists — Sweeping success of Democratic principles — The purchase of Louisiana — 
Death of his daughter — Comfort from the Bible — Re-election — Troubles with England — Return to 
private life — His habits of life at home — Extensive hospitality — ^Jefferson's religion — Financial troubles 
— Gifts from friends — The last scene, July 4, 1826. 



BOOK II. 

§i;iiil fiuilhrs of #ur Pinion. 



ANDREW JACKSON, 

The Hero of the War of 181 2, and Popular President, 131 

Why Jackson is remembered — His strong individuality — Wretchedness of his early life — Cruelties of the 
British in South Carolina — Studying law — Removal to Tennessee — Wild life on the Frontier — Marriage 
under peculiar circumstances — Early political life — Duels with Dickenson and Benton — War with the 
Indians — The Great Battle of Horse-Shoe Bend — Attacks of the British on New Orleans — Jackson's 
glorious defense — Awful slaughter of the British — Honors to Jackson — The Seminole War — United 
States Senator — Election to the Presidency in 1828 — Death of his wife — His memorable administration 
—Sufferings of his later life — His death in 1845. 



LIST OF CHAPTERS AND SUBJECTS. 



'0 



PAGH 



The Second War of Independence, or the War of 1812, 144 

Meaning of the war — Its causes — Neutral rights — Impressing American sailors — Insults and outrages — The 
" Chesapeake " and the " Leopard" — Injury to American commerce — Paper blockades — The Orders in 
Council — Embargo as retaliation — Our naval glory in this war — Failure of the campaign against 
Canada — Hull's surrender at Detroit — Splendid victories at sea — The " Constitution " and the " Guer- 
riere " — The "Wasp" and the "Frolic" — Other sea-duels — American Privateers — On the Lakes — 
Perry's great victory — Land operations — Battle of the Thames — Wilkinson's Fiasco — The "Shannon " 
and the " Chesapeake " — English reinforcements — Lundy's Lane and Plattsburg — The burning of 
Washington — Baltimore saved — General Jackson at New Orleans — "the treaty of peace. 

JOHN QUINCY ADAMS, 

The Accomplished President, and Great Defender of the Right of Petition, . 161 

Adams not a " self-made man " — His excellent equipment — To Europe at eleven years of age — At 
school abroad — Private Secretary to the Russian Minister — Studies at the Hague — -Honors at Harvard 
— Studying law — Minister to the Netherlands — Washington's high praise — Love and marriage — United 
States Senator — Professor at Harvard — Mission to Russia — The Emperor's tact — Minister to England — 
Secretary of State — Elected President — Attacks on Adams — His manners contrasted with those of Jack- 
son — Brief retirement — The ex-President goes to the House of Representatives — The right of peti- 
tion—Stormy scenes in the House — " I will put the question myself" — Honors to a veteran — Mr. 
Adams's simple prayer — "This is the last of earth " — Death of the patriot statesman. 

HEN RY CLAY, 

Popular Hero, Patriot, and Statesman, 177 

Slavery — An overshadowing question — Clay's devotion to the Union — His popularity — Stories of his boy- 
hood — " The Mill Boy of the Slashes " — A clerk in Richmond — His personal appearance — His magnifi- 
cent voice — Removal to Kentucky — Success as a lawyer — His marriage — Member of the House of 
Representatives — Clay's advocacy of the war of 1S12 — Goes to Europe — " I liked the Kentucky man 
best " — Speaker of the House— Popularity with the masses — The admission of Missouri — -The Missouri 
Compromise — Clay's great influence — Jackson's hatred of Clay — Clay makes Adams President — Cry of 
corrupt bargain — Secretary of State — Returns to private life — Re-election to the Senate — The nullifica- 
tion troubles — Clay's compromise tariff — The panic of 1837 — Harrison's nomination and Clay's disap- 
pointment — Grief of the Whigs — Friends discharge his debts — Clay's compromise measures of 1850 — 
His failing health — The country in danger — Clay's devotion — His last great speech — Denunciation of 
disunion — His death — The object of his public life. 

DANIEL WEBSTER, 

The Defender of National Union, 193 

Memorable scene in Congress — The " Reply to Hayne " — The great work done by Webster for the Union 
— A New Hampshire boy — Characteristic stories of his early life — Family sacrifices for education — 
Studying law — His imposing presence — Great ability as a lawyer — Description of his argument in the 
famous Dartmouth College case — The Plymouth Rock oration — Mr. Ticknor's account — The " Reply 
to Hayne " — Mr. Everett's anxiety — Description of the scene in the Senate — Webster's splendid 
triumph — Secretary of State — The annexation of Texas — The compromise of 1850 — Webster's "7th of 
March Speech " — Alienation of friends — His Marshfield home — Injury and ill health — His death-bed— 
Pathetic scenes at his funeral — His resting-place. 

JOHN C. CALHOUN, 

The Great Advocate of State Rights, 207 

A question of history — Calhoun's character and influence — His birth and ancestry — Early Democratic 
opinions — Member of Legislature and Congress — -Secretary of War — Vice-President under Adams and 
Jackson — The " Tariff of Abominations" — Calhoun's argument for nullification — The great debate— 
2 



1 6 LIST OF CHAPTERS AND SUBJECTS. 

Hayne's speech and Webster's reply — The ordinance of nullification — Jackson's proclamation — South 
Carolina calls out her soldiers — The conflict avoided — Clay's compromise tariff — Calhoun's defense of 
slavery— Miss Martineau's reminiscences — The contest of 1850 — Calhoun's last days. 

SAMUEL HOUSTON, 

PAGa 
And the Story of Texan Independence 217 

The new race of statesmen — Houston's early life in Virginia — "Over the Mountains into Tennessee" — 
Life among the Indians — A soldier under Jackson — Study of law — Elected Governor of Tennessee — 
His marriage — The event which changed his life — A mystery — Again among the Indians — Houston 
abandons civilized life— Watching events in Mexico — Settlers from the United States — Their hatred 
of Mexican rule — Houston joins fortunes with Texans — Massacres of the Alamo and Goliad — Texas 
declares her independence — The battle of San Jacinto — " Remember the Alamo" — Freedom for Texas — 
Houston's second marriage— Annexation of Texas — Governor and United States Senator — The era of 
Secession — Houston's devotion to the Union — An amusing practical illustration — Houston deposed from 
the Governorship — His death in 1863. 



BOOK III. 

iiiints of \\)i Cibil ^hr. 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN, 

The Preserver of the Union, 229 

Lincoln's increasing fame — Comparison with Washington — His birth in 1809 — Wretchedness of his early 
life — The poor whites of Kentucky — His mother's influence^Lincoln's odd appearance as a back- 
woodsman — His love of study — Scarcity of books — " Speechifying" — Removal to Illinois — Kindliness 
to a worthless dog — The slave auction at New Orleans — " If I ever get a chance to hit slavery, I will hit it 
hard " — Studying surveying — The young politician — His practice of law — His marriage — Elected 
Representative to Congress — His opposition to slavery — His famous debates with Douglas — " If he 
gives that answer, he can never be President "—The Cooper Institute speech — The campaign of 1S60 — 
Intense excitement — The Chicago convention — Seward's advantages — The surprise of Lincoln's 
nomination — His triumphant election — Pathetic farewell to Springfield — Threats of Secession — Firing 
on Sumter — Great Success — Perplexities — The dark days of the war — Lincoln's wonderful management 
of men — The emancipation question — The great proclamation — Lincoln's abilities as a soldier and 
diplomatist — His caution — End of the war — The great tragedy — His death on April 15th — Country in 
mourning — The solemn funeral procession — The beauty and greatness of his character. 

WILLIAM H. SEWARD, 

The Statesman and Diplomatist 253 

William H. Seward's college days — Kan away from home — Enters the law — Receives Lafayette — Governor 
of New York — Contest with the Governor of Virginia — Discards wine at his official receptions — Refuses 
to pardon criminals — Returns to practice of law — Enters the U. S. Senate in 1848 — Expected the nomi- 
nation for President — Works for Lincoln's election — Services as Secretary of State — Purchase of Alaska 
—Estimate of his character — " He was faithful." 

CHARLES SUMNER, 

The Great Advocate of Freedom, 265 

Cultured New England ancestors — Did not feel the pinch of poverty — School and college life — Practices 
law in Boston — His distinguished friends — Spends three years in Europe — Receives marked attention in 
England " — Musical accomplishments — Practices law for five years — First great speech — " That picture 



LIST OF CHAPTERS AND SUBJECTS. 17 

made me Senator " — Four hours speech in United States Senate — Turmoil in Congress — "The Crime 
against Kansas " — Caned by Brooks — Returns to the Senate — His radical position — Usefulness during 
the war— Lincoln and Sumner — His opinion of President Johnson — Strained relations with Grant- 
Personal peculiarities — Character. 

ULYSSES S. GRANT, 

FAGS 

The Hero of the Civil War, 277 

A man for the occasion — The day of heroes not past — Life before the war — His graduation at West Point — 
Services in the Mexican War — The Missouri farmer — Stories of his boyhood — His love for horses — A 
bold dash at Monterey — Lincoln's opinion — "Wherever Grant is, things move" — "A very obstinate 
man" — Brigadier General — First battle — "We must cut our way out as we cut our way in" — "All 
quiet on the Potomac" — Attack on Forts Henry and Donelson — "Unconditional Surrender" — The First 
great victory — Battle of Shiloh — The first day's fighting — The tide turns on the second day — Denuncia- 
tions of Grant — The autumn of 1862 — Depression in the North — Grant's determination to win a vic- 
tory — The Vicksburg campaign — A hazardous movement — The long siege — Surrender — A glorious 
Fourth of July — Lincoln's acknowledgment — Narrow escape in New Orleans — A new command — 
Chattanooga — Lookout Mountain and Missionary Ridge — A glorious victory — Call for Grant to lead 
the armies — The Virginia campaign — Battlesof the Wilderness — Spottsylvania — Cold Harbor — Lincoln's 
impression — "Not a retreating man " — Closing in on Richmond — Sherman's march — Grant's letter to 
Lee — The surrender at Appomattox — After the war — Election to the Presidency — His administration — 
Re-election — Retirement — His journey around the world — A triumphal progress — Business misfortunes 
— His " Personal Memoirs ' — Fighting off death — The nation's sympathy — Ravages of disease — Death 
at Mt. McGregor — The tribute of the nation. 

The Story of the Civil War, ; 295 

Secession — Not exclusively a Southern idea — An irrepressible conflict — Coming events — Lincoln — A nation 
in arms — Sumter — Anderson— McClellan — Victory and defeat — Monitor and Merrimac — Antietam — 
Shiloh — Buell — Grant— George H. Thomas— Rosecrans — Porter — Sherman — Sheridan — Lee — Gettys- 
burg — A great fight — Sherman's march — The Confederates weakening — More victories — Appomattox — 
Lee's surrender — From war to peace — etc., etc. 

WILLIAM T. SHERMAN, 

The Hero of the "March to the Sea," 317 

Memorable events of the Civil war — Sherman's early days — "Take Cump, Mr. Ewing " — Life at West 
Point — At Fort Moultrie — Marriage — Banking in California — Superintendent of the New Orleans Mili- 
tary Academy — Breaking out of the war — President Lincoln's views — Bull Run — Shiloh — " He fights 
by the week" — .^t Chattanooga — -Capture of Atlanta — Starting on the great march— The day of 
jubilee — A Christmas gift of Savannah — End of the war — The grand review — Study of Sherman's 
campaigns in England — Life after the war. 

GEORGE B.McCLELLAN, 

First Commander of the Army of the Potomac, 329 

McClellan's great abilities — Birth and education — Fine military training — Early days of the war — His suc- 
cess in West Virginia^The army of the Potomac — The Peninsula campaign — Obstacles to success— 
Stanton's contempt — A terrible emergency — Confidence in " Little Mac " — Antietam — A great victory — 
McClellan relieved — His popularity — Lee's opinion — Personal qualities. 

PHILIP H. SHERIDAN, 

The Hero of the "Valley Campaign," 335 

Sheridan's victories — His ability to inspire his men — Boyhood days — Premature war at West Point — The 

t Great Rebellion — Chattanooga and Lookout Mountain — Grant's confidence — The Valley campaign — 
I 



i8 LIST OF CHAPTERS AND SUBJECTS. 

Early sent " whirling through Winchester " — Fun in Richmond at Early's expense — Cedar Creek — A 
surprise — "Face the other way, boys! " — Turning defeat into victory — Destruction of Early's army- 
Five Fork's — Lee's surrender — Custer's tribute — Sheridan's personal influence — Life after the war. 

GEORGE G. MEADE, 

PACK 

Victorious Commander at Gettysburg, 343 

A critical day — The invading army of Lee — Climax of the battle — The last tremendous effort of the Con- 
federate Army — Pickett's famous charge — A storm of grapeshot from Cemetery Hill — Meade's great 
victory — Thanks of Congress — Subsequent movements in Virginia — Grant's confidence in Meade — The 
gratitude of the nation — Colonel McClure's eulogy — Meade the unrewarded hero. 

GEORGE H. THOMAS, 

The Great General in the War for the Ukion, 349 

The ideal soldier — Graduation at West Point — Breaking out of the war — Mill Spring and Murfreesboro — 
The battle of Chickamauga — Longstreet's advance — A desperate encounter — " The Rock of Chicka- 
mauga " — Battle of Chattanooga — Thomas storms Missionary Ridge — The battle of Nashville — 
Thomas's deliberation — .A splendid triumph — Thomas's modesty — His fine character— Death in 1870. 

ROBERT E. LEE, 

The Great Commander ok the Confederate Armies, 355 

Lee's acknowledged greatness — His life before the war — His devotion to Virginia — Difficulty in deciding 
on his course — Resigns his commission — Prepares the Southern people for a long and bloody war — 
His great influence — The simplicity of his habits — He shares the fare of the soldiers — Story of a 
campaign dinner — " I jest borrowed dat piece o' meat"— Defeat of McCIellan on the peninsula — Tri- 
umphs at Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville — Gettysburg — Superiority of th(i North in resources — 
A question of endurance — The campaign of 1S64 — Lee's superior skill — Destitution of his army — 
The inevitable end— Surrender at Appomattox — Gratitude and affection of the South — Offers of a home 
— Becomes President of Washington College — Beauty of his private character — His great influence in 
restoring good feeling — Devotion to his invalid wife — Death in 1S70. 

THOMAS JONATHAN JACKSON, 

The Great Confederate General, 369 

His birth and education — Honors won in the Mexican war — Professor in the Virginia Military Institute — 
His peculiar conscientiousness — The secession of Virginia — In command at Harper's Ferry — The 
"Stonewall Brigade" — Origin of the name — Wounded at Bull Run — Waiting for his turn — Brilliant 
warfare of 1S62 — Fredericksburg^The movement at Chancellorsville — Jackson mortally wounded — 
Personal characteristics — His dependence on prayer — Father Hubert's tribute. 



BOOK \\ . 

s of \\)i %mx\v\\\ Eabn. 



t^" 



JOHN PAUL JONES, 

The First Hero of Our Xavv , 377 

The origin of the American navy— John Paul Jones and his famous victory — Sights on guns and what they 
did— Suppressing the Barbary pirates— Opening Japan— Port Royal— Passing the forts— The " Monitor " 
and " Merrimac "—In Mobile Bay— The " Kearsarge " and the " Alabama "—Naval architecture revo- 
lutionized — The Samoan Hurricane — Building a new navy. 



LIST OF CHAPTERS AND SUBJECTS. 19 

OLIVER H. PERRY, 

PAGE 

Hero of the Battle of Lake Erie, 397 

Perry's fame as a naval commander — Boyhood and education— His mother's influence—" Mrs. Perry's 
victory" — Enters the navy as a midshipman— Great ability in training — The war of 1812 — The conflict 
on the lakes — The building of two navies — The battle op the lake — A splendid victory — Perry's immor- 
tal message — Honors from Congress. 

DAVID G. FARRAGUT, 

The Great Union Naval Commander, 401 

Admiral Farragut's fame — His early career — The battle in Valparaiso harbor — The New Orleans expedi- 
tion — Farragut bombards the forts — Torpedoes and fire ships — Preparations for passing the forts — A 
mighty conflict — A scene of devastation — Farragut's splendid victory— Capture of New Orleans — 
Operations below Vicksburg — The forts in Mobile Bay — Arrival of the Confederate ram Tennessee — 
Preparations for the attack — A great procession of war vessels — Farragut in the rigging of the Hart- 
ford — Torpedoes — Sinking of the "Tecumseh" — "Damn the torpedoes, go ahead" — Ramming iron 
clads with wooden vessels — Gallant fighting of the Hartford — " Save the Admiral " — Surrender of the 
Confederate fleet — Farragut's indomitable spirit — Wonderful bravery of the sailors — Welcome at New 
York. 



BOOK V. 

iiants of our |U-untttit Country. 



JAMES A. GARFIELD, 

The Martyr President, 411 

The long summerof 1881 — The nation's suspense — Apeople's love for Garfield — Hisearlydays — A widow's 
son— His love of books — The young carpenter — Life on the canal towpath — Earning an education — At 
Hiram College — Williams College — Doing four years' work in two — Head of Hiram College — The 
Civil War — A teacher-soldier^Fighting in Kentucky — Shiloh — The battle of Chickamauga — Elected 
to Congress — The campaign of 1S80 — Garfield's victory — Contest with Conkling — The assassin's bullet 
— Weeks of suffering — The end — Blaine's tribute. 

SAMUEL J. TILDEN, 

The Great Reform Governor, 425 

The contested election of 1876 — ^Tilden's patriotism — Boyhood days in New York — The young politician — 
Great ability as a lawyer — The Flagg case — Success at the bar — A great fortune — The Tweed Ring — 
"What are you going to do about it?" — Unraveling the conspiracy — Tilden's triumph— -Governor of 
New York — The " Canal Ring " — The St. Louis Convention — Enthusiasm for Tilden — The famous cam- 
paign — A doubtful result — The Electoral Commission — A great library — Tilden's last days. 

J AME S G. BLAINE, 

The Brilliant and Successful Statesman, 433 

After the war — A new era — Blaine's early life — A plucky boy — Life at college — Teaching in Kentucky — 
Marriage — Work among the blind — Removal to Maine — Editor and politician — Speaker of the Maine 
Assembly — The Chicago Convention of i860 — Election to Congress — Lincoln's friendship — After the 
war — Speaker of the House — The era of scandal — Attacks on Blaine — The Convention of 1876 — In- 
gersoll's speech^The " Plumed Knight " — In Garfield's cabinet — The tragedy of 1881 — The campaign 
of 1884 — The Burchard incident — Blaine's defeat — Reply to President Cleveland's message — Secretary 
of State — The Peace Congress — Sorrow and affliction — Death in 1893 — Depew's tribute. 



h 



20 LIST OF CHAPTERS AND SUBJECTS. 

BOOK VI. 

Giants of Inbnitibf ^^rbifbcnunf. 



ROBERT FULTON, 

PAca 

The Pioneer of Steam Navigation, 447 

The gap between invention and achievement — The practical man — A Pennsylvania boy — Fulton's artistic 
talents — His mechanical abilities — His rapid success — Visit to England — Turns his attention to steam 
navigation — A working model — Accident to the model — His partnership wilh Livingston — Buildirig of 
the "Clermont" — The great trial trip — Incredulity of the spectators — Astonishment and dismay on shore 
— A successful trip — " The Car of Neptune" — Legal complications — Exposure and illness — Death in 
1815. 

SAMUEL F. B. MORSE, 

Inventor of the Electric Tf.legraph, 453 

Importance of the telegraph — What it has done for the world — Morse's early days — An artist's career — 
The voyage to Europe — Return in the "Sully" — Conception of the telegraph — Dark days — Receives 
his patent at last — Aid from Congress — An ignorant official — Triumphant success — Honors to Morse — 
The Atlantic cable. 

THOMAS A. EDISON, 

And the Storv of American Invention 459 

Public interest in Edison — His boyhood days — An enterprising newsboy — Amateur journalism and chem- 
istry — A stroke of luck — Studying telegraphy — His first invention — A labor-saving genius — Too inge- 
nious by half — Trouble on the Albany wire — Edison locates the difficulty — The " stock ticker " — Finan- 
cial success — Edison in trouble — Fifteen hours without rest or food — The typical inventor — A poor 
business man — Appearance and personal traits. 

OTHER GREAT INVENTORS AND THEIR INVENTIONS, . 463 

Invention and agriculture— The scythe — Cradle— Plow— Eli Whitney and the cotton-gin— Cyrus H. Mc- 
Cormick — Mowers and reapers — Inventions — Oliver Evans — Grist milling — The steam engine — Jacob 
Perkins and the nail machine — Elias Howe and his sewing machine — Eli Terry — Chauncey Jerome — 
Clocks — Watches. 



BOOK VII. 
§iant Mtii of I'usiiuss. 



C^i> 



JOHN JACOB ASTOR, 

Our Pioneer Business Man and Fir>t Millionaire, 471 

Astor's experience of the extremes of poverty and wealth — Life of a German peasant in the last century — 
Astor resolves to yo to America — The fur business — English monopoly of the trade — .\stor's journeys 
in the fur regions — His marriage — His large profits — A bank clerk's estimate — The Astoria scheme — 
Betrayed by his agents — .\stor's disappointment — His business ciualities — His great success. 

GEORGE PEABODY, 

Our I'irsi' Millionaire Philanthropist 481 

A new kind of millionaire — Tribute due to Peabody — His birth and early training — A store boy in New- 
buryport — Removal to the District of Columbia— Firm of Riggs & Peabody — His popularity and suc- 
cess — Branch house in England — The terrible crisis of 1837 — High reputation in England — .^n Ameri- 
can merchant in London — Aid for America at the World's Fair of 1851 — Mr. Peabody's simple habits — 



LIST OF CHAPTERS AND SUBJECTS. 21 

His love of justice— His great gifts to education— A magnificent keepsake from the Queen— His death 
in 1869 — Reception of his remains in America — Mr. Peabodv's charitable works. 



CORNELIUS VANDERBILT, 



PACB 



And the Story of American Railroads, 491 

Scenes of Vanderbilt's youth— An enterprising boy— How a twelve-year-old boy managed a puzzling 
situation — Earning his first hundred dollars — The war of 1812 — Vanderbilt's marriage — Voyages and 
profits— The new system of steam navigation— A shrewd captain— Eluding a sheriff's officer— Building 
of a steamer of his own — At the head of the business — Investments in railroads — Operations in Har- 
lem and Hudson River — A conspiracy against Harlem — The tables turned — His large profits A great 

millionaire — Love for his old home — Death in 1877. 

The Story of Our Railroads, cqi 

The first locomotive — Early railways — Trial trips — The Mohawk and Schenectady Road — A trial trip — 
Improvements — A railway mania — Old-time coaches — Across the continent — Parlor and sleeping cars — 
Consolidation — The great railway companies — Horse versus engine — The New York Central Railway — 
The Pennsylvania system — Bridges— The electric railway — The outlook, etc. 

CYRUS W. FIELD, 

The Successful Projector of the Atlantic Cable, 517 

The man who succeeds — Field's early years — Retirement from business — Mr. Gisborne's plan — Field takes 
up the idea — A company organized — Aid of British and American governments — The first attempt — 
Breaking of the cable — Another trial and disappointment — A new plan — ^Using two steamers — The cable 
successfully laid — Messages transmitted — A sudden stop — One more trial — The " Great Eastern " — Part- 
ing of the cable in mid-ocean — Grappling — .A fresh start — Intense public interest — Success at last — 
Honors to Mr. Field. 

LELAND STANFORD, 

And the Story of California, 525 

Opening up of the great West — Stanford's memory in California — The discovery of gold in 1848 — The 
excitement that followed — California in the early days — The sea voyage — California wages — Specula- 
tion and gambling — " Miners' justice " — Stanford's early life in New York — An enterprising boy — The 
young lawyer — Marriage — Going West — Chicago in 1850 — Lake Michigan mosquitoes — Arrival in Cali- 
fornia — His popularity — Political foresight — Need of railroads — The Pacific Railway enterprise — 
Marvelous railroad building — Governor of California — An era of prosperity — The Palo Alto ranch — 
Death of his son — The Leland Stanford, Jr., University — .-V noble monument — Death in 1892. 

GEORGE 'W. CHILDS, 

The Great Publisher and Philanthropist, 543 

A noble character — Mr. Childs' universal popularity — Early life in Baltimore — Coming to Philadelphia — 
The book business — Mr. Childs' own account of his start — A young publisher — Ambition to own the 
"Ledger" — "Don't buy!" — How Cliilds gathered wealth — How he scattered it — His good sense in 
giving — The " Ledger " employees — Public gifts — The home at " Wootton " — Distinguished guests— 
Childs and Drexel — How to make life worth living. 

MARSHALL FIELD, 

The Modern Business Man, 553 

Cities of the great West — What Marshall Field has done for Chicago — \ Massachusetts country boy — 
Ambition to be a merchant — Going to Chicago — The city in i856^A new position — The panic of 1S57 
— Becomes a junior partner — Speculative business — Mr. Field's conservatism — Shortening up on credits 
— Prosperity — The great fire of 1873 — A new start — A great building — Business methods of Marshall 
Field & Co. 



22 LIST OF CHAPTERS AND SUBJECTS. 

JOHN WANAMAKER, 

PAGE 

The Great Business Organizer, 561 

Doing what others cannot do — Wanamaker as a book-store boy — Climbing the ladder — A better position 
— Starting in business — Novel methods — Rapid success — A great purchase — Organizing a great depart- 
ment store — How the " Wanamaker methods " have revolutionized business — Young Men's Christian 
Association — The Bethany Sunday-school — Small beginnings — Mr. Wanamaker's organizing powers — 
Postmaster-General — Public work and gifts. 



1 



BOOK VIII. 

§mnts of Jvtligious aiib Social Jvcform. 

HENRY WARD BEECHER, 

The Great Pulpit Orator and Reformer, 571 

Lyman Beecher and his family — His son's boyhood and training — Henry's love of adventure — How his 
father m.ide him a minister instead of a sailor — His cheerfulness and fun — Theological studies at Lane 
Seminary — Marriage and settlement in Indiana — Preacher and man-of-all-work — Call to Plymouth 
Church — Anti-slavery work — Thrilling scene in the church — The ransomed slave — The war of 1S61. 

LEADERS OF RELIGIOUS AND SOCIAL REFORM. 

LYMAN ABBOTT, rAsToK ok Plvmoltii Church, 583 

THOMAS DEWITT TALMAGE, Pui'Ui.AK I'ui.riT Orator 585 

RUSSELL H. CONWELL, Pastor ANn Lkcturkr 5S7 

CHARLES H. PARKHURST, the Champion of Munmcipal Reform, 5S9 

DWIGHT L. MOODY, the Great Evangelist, ^gj 

WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON, 

The Great Pioneer Abolitionist, 595 

Contrast of Garrison and Calhoun — Garrison's great victory — Birth and early life — Partnership with Ben- 
jamin Lundy — He declares for immediate emancipation — Imprisonment for libel — Released by Arthur 
Tappan— Decline of the " Genius " — Establishment of the " Liberator " — Living on bread and water — 
An unequal contest — " I am in earnest " — .A.larm and wrath in the South — Rewards for Garrison's ab- 
duction — The journey to England — Mobs in Boston — Garrison dragged through the streets — Therescue 
— Horrors of slavery— Garrison's bold words — .Annexation of Texas — How colored men were treated in 
1845 — Threats of secession — Garrison's course in the war — " I did not foresee that death and hell would 
secede " — Abolition of slavery — Victory at last — Garrison's psalm of praise — The evening of life. 

The Story of American Slavery, 603 

The negro in America — The first cargo — Beginning of the slave traffic— As a laborer — Increase in num- 
bers — Slavery ; its different character in different States — Political disturbances — Agitation and agita- 
tors — John Brown — War and how it emancipated the slave — The free negro. 

FRANCES E. WILLARD, 

And Her Story of Famous American Wo.men, 621 

Two distinct early types — The Northern and the Southern —No place for girls in the New England public 
schools — No education for women in colonial period — Girls first admitted to public schools — Church 
and schools — .A.dinission to high schools — Universities — Women as teachers — Southern women — Self- 
support — Fields now open to them — In literature — In the professions — In reform movements — The 
sphere of woman — etc., etc. 



LIST OF CHAPTERS AND SUBJECTS. 23 

BOOK IX. 

Giants of g^nurrtiin fiterature. 



HENRY W. LONGFELLOW, 

PAGE 

AND THE Story of American Literature, 635 

Colonial literature — Post-revolution literature — Irving — Culprit Fay — Marco Bozzaris — Bryant — Recent 
literature — Walt Whitman — Howells — Henry James — F. Marion Crawford — New England literature — 
Whittier — Lowell — Longfellow — Hawthorne — Minor novelists — The literature of the south and west — 
American historians — American oratory — Webster — Wendell Phillips — Contrast between Enghsh and 
American literature. 

WASHINGTON IRVING, 

Author of the "Sketch Book," 653 

Beginnings of a real American literature — Irving's delicate health — Travel in Europe — Knickerbocker's 
" History of New York" — The " Sketch Book " — Irving's intimacy with great English authors — His 
popularity — " Who was Washington, mother?" — Life in Spain — The " Alhambra " tales — Sunnyside 
and its guests — Curtis on Irving. 

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT, 

The Oldest of the Great American Poets, 655 

Bryant a link between the present and the past — " Thanatopsis " and its popularity — Removal from Massa- 
chusetts to New York — The Evening Post — Bryant's long life and conspicuous position — His marriage 
— Poems to his wife — The " Forest Hymn " — Translation of Homer — His wonderful memory — A bad 
case of poetic idiocy — Bryant's striking appearance. 

JAMES FENIMORE COOPER, 

The Pioneer of American Historical Romance, 657 

Early life in the wilds of Central New York — Visits of the Indians — Yale College — His expulsion — Midship- 
man in the navy — Marriage — A poor novel — "I believe I could write a better story myself " — "The 
Spy " — " The Pilot " — Its effect on an old sailor — Cooper's unpopularity — Libel suits — Death in 1851. 

GEORGE BANCROFT, 

The Eminent American Historian, 659 

Bancroft's fine opportunities — His education — Travel in Europe — Political life- — First volume of his " His- 
tory of the United States " — Secretary of the Navy — Minister to England — Bancroft's patriotism — " A 
Fourth-of-July oration in ten volumes " — The oration on Lincoln — Rose-growing and horseback riding 
— His last years. 

RALPH WALDO EMERSON, 

The Concord Philosopher and Poet, 660 

Life at Harvard — His proficiency in literature — Study for the ministry — Resignation of his pastorate — His 
home at Concord — His attractive personality — Miss Bremer's description — His home life and charac- 
ter — His manners — His conception of the true object of life. 

EDGAR A. POE, 

The Brilliant Poet and .Author, 661 

Poe's sad history — His parents and their poverty — His mother's death — Adoptipn by Mrs. Allan — A bril- 
liant scholar — His love of drink — His reckless marriage — A life of poverty — His wife's death — His 
powers as an elocutionist — His manners toward women — Death in 1849. 



24 ■ LIST OF CHAPTERS AXD SUBJECTS. 

NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE, 

, PAGB 

The Greatest American Writer of Romanxe 663 

The son of a Salem sea-captain — Life at college — Friendship of Longfellow and Pierce — Residence at Con- 
cord — "Mosses from an Old ^Llnse "^" The Scarlet Letter" — Consul at Liverpool — European life and 
travel — His shyness and reserve — Mr. Fields' anecdote — His happy marriage — Tribute to his wife — 
Seclusion from society — Return from Europe — The unfinished romance — Longfellow's beautiful poem, 

HENRY D. THOREAU, 

The Concord Hermit and Natoralist, 665 

The " Concord group " of .vriters and philosophers — Thoreau's eccentricity — -His hermit life — " Walden "— 
Failure of his first work — A surveyor-naturalist — His love for the fields and woods — His religion — 
Emerson's tribute to his character. 

JOHN G. WHITTIER, 

The Quaker Poet of America, 666 

A New England farmer's son — Picture of his early life in "Snow Bound" — The youthful poet and his 
verses in the weekly paper — Garrison's visit — Whittier's poems in the cause of freedom — Threatened 
by mobs — His home life — Tribute to his sister Elizabeth — His appearance — Popularity of his poems — 
His broadness and liberality — His plea for a little girl — The evening of life. 

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL, 

The Great Poet and Essayist, 668 

Lowell's great powers — His versatility — Study at Harvard — Marriage — His wife's loveliness — Her poems — 
Her death in 1853 — " The Two Angels " — Professorship at Harvard — Editor of the " Atlantic Monthly " 
— Minister to Spain and Great Britain — His popularity in England — The " Biglow Papers " — His ardent 
patriotism — The " Commemoration Ode." 

WALT WHITMAN , 

The Author of " Leaves of Grass," 670 

Whitman's originality — His boyhood — His loveof nature and of humanity — A Brooklyn printer — " Leaves 
of Grass " — Severe criticism — Nurse in the Washington hospitals — Lincoln's death — " My Captain" — 
" Drum-taps " — Life in Camden — His striking appearance — Death in 1892. 

LOUISA M. ALCOTT, 

The Author of " Little Women," 671 

Miss Alcott's life — Its deep interest and pathos — Her unpractical father — Life with a philosopher — From 
Germantown to Boston — Removal to Concord — Another breakdown— Louisa's unselfish efforts — Teach- 
ing and writing — Her growing reputation — Life as an army nurse— " Hospital Sketches" — "Little 
Women" — Its immense popularity — -Other stories — Overwork and poor health — Death in 1S88 — 
" Transfiguration." 

HORACE GREELEY, 
The Founder of Moijekn Journalism, 675 

Greeley's great influence — His picturesque character — " Let's see what old Horace says this week " — His 
birth and boyhood — His precocity — " No pupils from other towns except Horace Greeley" — An appren- 
tice to a printer — Forty dollars a year — Goes to New York — Mistaken for a runaway apprentice — Em- 
ployment at last — The " New Yorker " and its disastrous collapse — " I would rather be in prison than in 
debt" — The "Log Cabin" Campaign — Harrison's triumph — Starting the "Tribune" — Helped by 
opposition — The " Tribune " loved and haled — Mrs. Greeley's " isms " — .\ble contributors — The Taylor 
campaign of 1848 — Greeley chosen to Congress — "Tell Brooks to keep still" — Making Congressmen 
uncomfortable — The " Tribune" a mighty power — Opposing the slavery measures — Greeley's course in 



LIST OF CHAPTERS AND SUBJECTS. 25 

the War — "On to Richmond" — Attachment of his readers — Greeley's efforts for peace — Goes bail for 
Jefferson Davis — Nominated for President — Mrs. Greeley's sickness and death — Her husband's devo- 
tion — His own sickness and death — His monument. 

HARRIET BEECHER S T O "SA^ E . 

The Author of America's Most Popular Novel, 6S7 

An immortal book — Mrs. Stowe's power — The family of Lyman Beecher — Removal to Cincinnati — Lane 
Seminary — Professor Stowe — Miss Beecher's marriage — Assistance to a fugitive slave— A struggle with 
poverty and ill-health — Removal to Brunswick, Maine — Mrs. Stowe's tribulations — A memorable year — 
The Fugitive Slave Law — Heart-rending scenes — Exhortation to write — " I ?('/// write something" — Tears 
of the children over "Uncle Tom" — The story first published in the "National Era" — Its immense 
success — Popularity in England — Removal to Massachusetts — Journey to England — Mrs. Stowe's busv 
pen — The influence of" Uncle Tom's Cabin " — Celebration of Mrs. Stowe's 70th birthday — Poems and 
addresses — Her response— Touching words of Whittier. 



BOOK X. 

^political dSiants of tjjc present Dan. 

BENJAMIN HARRISON, Soldier, Orator, and Statesman 697 

GROVER CLEVELAND, SUCCESSFUL LaWVER, GOVERNOR, AND PRESIDENT 70O 

JOHN SHERMAN, The Financier and Statesjian /04 

THOMAS BRACKETT REED, The Great "Speaker" and Deii.\ter 708 

CHARLES FREDERICK CRISP, SOLDIEIl AND PARLIAMENTARIAN, 711 

JOHN GRIFFIN CARLISLE, Tariff Reformer, Financier, and Parliamentarian 714 

LEVI PARSONS MORTON, Banker and Statesman 717 

WILLIAM B. ALLISON, CONGRESSMAN AND Financier 720 

DAVID BENNETT HILL, GOVERNOR, SENATOR, AND Political Leader 723 

HENRY MOORE TELLER, BUSINESS Organizer and Champion of Silver Coinage, ... 725 

WILLIAM LYNE WILSON, Scholar and Tariff Reformer ' ■ 727 

WILLIAM McKINLEY, JR., Tariff Reformer and Governor 729 

CHAUNCEY MITCHELL DEPEW, The Apostle of Sunshine and Cheerfulness, .... 732 




PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE, LOOKING TOWARD THE CAPITOL, WASHINGTON. 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Statue of James A. Garfield, in Capitol 

Grounds, Frontispic 

Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington, . 
A Virginia Plantation Gateway, . . 
Washington's Reception at Trenton, 
Washington Taking the Oath, . . . 
Washington Crossing the Delaware, 
Old Birmingham Meeting House, 
Washington Reproving Lee at INIonmouth, 
Meeting of Washington and Rochambeau, 
The Tomb of Washington at Mt. Vernon, 
Penn's Treaty with the Indians, .... 
Penn's Residence in Second Street, below 

Chestnut Street, 

Death of Wolfe, 

Rear View of Independence Hall, . . . 

Franklin's Grave, 

Old Building in Boston where the Tea 

Plot is Supposed to have been Hatched, 
The Monument on Bunker Hill, .... 
The Attack on Rioters at Springfield, 

Mass., in 1786, 

Old South Church, Boston, 



27 

33 
36 
40 

44 
46 

47 
SO 
54 
56 

62 
66 
69 

72 

77 
80 



85 
8S 



PAGE 

View of the Capitol, Washington, .... 90 
Banks of the Mississippi To-day, for whose 

Free Navigation Jay Negotiated, .... 95 
St. Paul's, New York, an Old Church of 

Jay's Time, 97 

Cornwallis, 103 

Narrow Escape of Benedict Arnold, when 

Burning New London, Connecticut, . . 105 
James Madison, Hamilton's Chief Aid in 

Writing "The Federalist," 108 

Duel Between Burr and Hamilton, . . . .112 
The Liberty Bell, as Exhibited at the New 

Orleans Exposition, 115 

Independence Hall, Philadelphia, . . . .118 

Stage-coach of Jeflerson's Time 120 

Signing the Declaration of Independence, . 123 
Fairfax Court House — A Typical Virginia 

Court House, 125 

Virginia Currency, 127 

An Indian Mother, 131 

A Familiar Kentucky Scene in Jackson's 

Youth 133 

The Indian's Declaration of War, .... 137 



'■I 



28 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



The Old Marigny House, a Relic of the 

War of 1812, 139 

An Indian Fight in Florida, 141 

View of a Cotton-chute, 146 

Loading a Cotton Steamer, 148 

Burning of \\'a.shington, 150 

Statue of Commodore Perry, 152 

View on Lake Ontario 154 

Weathersford and General Jackson, . . . 156 

The Light Ship, 161 

The White House at \Vashington, . . . .165 
Opening of the Erie Canal, in 1825, . . . 167 

House of Representatives 172 

An Old Virginia Mansion, 179 

An Old Virginia Mansion — Interior, . . . 180 
Turnpike in the TUuc Crass Region of 

Kentucky, 183 

Residence of a Southern Planter, . . . .188 
Faneuil Hall, Boston, which Webster called 

" The Cradle of Liberty," 195 

The Elms, Yale Lhiiversity, 204 

Old Gates at St. Augustine, Florida, . . .207 
Entrance to a Cotton-yard, New Orleans, . 210 
A " Corn Shucking." in Slavery Times, . .212 
Colonial Mansion. Residence of the l^ate 

William Bull Pringle, Esq., Charleston, . 214 
A Scene on Texas Plains — r-)ispute over a 

Brand, 21S 

An Old Spanish House 219 

Fall of the Alamo, 221 

The Goliad Massacre, 222 

A Bucking Broncho, 224 

Battle on the Plains, . . . . ■ 226 

Lincoln's Boyhood Home in Kentucky, . . 230 
Home of Lincoln at Gentryville, Indiana, . 233 
Oijening of the Illinois and Michigan Canal, 234 

Lincoln and His Son "Tad," 240 

Libby Prison in Richmond, 244 

Bird's-eye View of Andersonville Prison, . 246 
The Cajiture of Booth, the Slayer of Lincoln, 247 
Old New York Mansion Near Seward's 

Home, 254 

Seal Catching in Alaska, 257 

Idols Totem, of Alaska 260 

The Vacant Seat in the Senate, Draped 

in Black, 271 

Main Building of the Centennial F'xposi- 

tion, opened by President Grant in 1876, . 277 
Decoration Day, 280 



FACE 

United States Mint, New Orleans, .... 284 

Moist Weather at the Front 286 

Surrender of General Lee 288 

General Grant and Li Hung Chang, Vice- 
roy of China 290 

The Funeral Train of General Grant, . . . 292 

An Old Indian Farmhouse, 294 

A Skirmisher, 295 

The Arts of Peace and the Art of War, . .297 

F'ort Moultrie, Charleston, 299 

Battle of Pittsburg Landing, 300 

Antietam Bridge, 302 

General Robert Edmund Lee, 305 

Retreat of Lee's Army, 308 

Entrance to Gettysburg Cemetery, . . , .310 
Longstreet Reporting at Bragg's Head- 
quarters, 312 

Battle of Kenesaw Mountain — Death of 

General Polk, 320 

The "Swamp Angel" Battery Bombard- 
ing Charleston, 322 

Review of LTnion Armies 325 

Statue of McClellan in City Hall S(|uare, 

Philadelphia 331 

United States 12-inch Breech-loading 

Mortar or Howitzer, 335 

General Sheridan Turning Del'eat into 

Victory at Cedar Creek, 338 

United States Military Telegraph Wagon, , 339 

Pickett's Charge at Gettysburg, 345 

Latest Model of Gatling Field Gun, . . . 346 

A Railroad Battery, 350 

John Brown after his Capture, 357 

The James River and Country Near Rich- 
mond, 358 

Libby Prison in 1884, Before its Removal 

to Chicago 360 

" General Lee to the Rear," 362 

Lee and the F'erryman, 363 

Lee and the Union Soldier, . • 364 

Harper's Ferry, 371 

Battle of ChancellorsviUe, 372 

House in which Stonewall Jackson Died, . 374 
Fight between the "Monitor" and the 

"Merrimac," 383 

Sinking of the "Alabama," 386 

Burnside's Expedition Crossing Hatteras Bar, 392 
" Chicago," One of the New War Ships, . . 395 
Eight-incli Gun of the "Baltimore," . . . 401 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



29 



PAGE 

Bailey's Dam on the Red River, 403 

One of the " Miantonomah's " Four Ten- 
inch Breech-loading Rifles, 406 

The Farragut Monument in Washington, . 407 
Model of United States Man of War, . . . 408 
The Home of Garfield's Childhood, . . .412 

Garfield on the Towpath, 413 

Hiram College, 415 

Garfield's Assassination, 420 

Tablet in the Waiting-room of the Rail- 
way Station where Garfield was Shot, . . 422 
The Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor, 427 
General View of the New York City Hall, . 428 
Mr. Blaine's Birthplace, Brownsville, Pa., . 434 
School House, Brownsville, Pa., where 

Mr. Blaine Began his Education, .... 436 
Washington and Jefferson College, .... 43S 
The Blaine Residence at Augusta, Maine, . 441 

Mississippi Steamboats of To-day, [50 

Plan of the World's Fair Grounds, . . . . -;52 
Shop in which the First Morse Instrument 

was Constructed, 455 

The New York Stock Exchange 461 

A Colonial Spinning-wheel 463 

Colonial Plow with Wooden Mold-board, . 464 
A New England Weaver Winding the Spools, 464 
Primitive Modes of Grinding Corn, . . . 466 

Between the Mills, 467 

A Great Modern Flour Mill, 467 

A Modern New York Store, 471 

Champlain's Fortified Camp in Quebec, . . 473 

View on Broadway, New York, 475 

Ancient Block House, Alaska, 476 

Modern Stores in Boston, 483 

Produce Exchange Building, New York, . . 486 

First Train of Cars in America, 491 

"Johnny Bull," or No. i, 493 

Loading a Train of Tank Cars, 495 

The Vanderbilt Family Driving in Central 

Park, New York, 497 

Suspension Bridge, Niagara Falls, .... 498 

The Royal Gorge, Colorado, 500 

New Terminal Station, Reading Railroad, . 501 
On the Baltimore and Ohio Railway, . . . 505 
Scene in the Chicago Riots of 1894, . . . 507 
Entering Boulder Canon, Colorado, . . . 509 
Mossbrae 511 



PAGE 

Arrival of the Great Eastern, 520 

Elevated Railroad in New York, 522 

Finding Gold in the Mill-race, 526 

Gold Washing in California, 528 

Old Mission Indian of Southern California, 529 
Execution by the Vigilance Committee, . . 531 
Giant Tree of the Yosemite Valley, . . . 533 

A Bee Ranch in Lower California 536 

Valley Irrigation in Southern California, . 537 
Dome and Telescope, Lick Observatory, . . 538 
An Old Colonial House Near Philadelphia, 544 
Academy of Fine Arts, Philadelphia, . . . 547 

The Drexel Institute, Philadelphia 549 

Lake Shore Drive, Chicago, 553 

A Chicago Mansion in the Early Days, . . 554 
The Burning of Chicago in 1871, . . . .556 
M'holesale Store of Marshall Field & Co., . 557 
Beihany Sunday-School Tent, 1859, . . . 564 
Bethany Church and Sunday-School, . . . 565 
" Lindenhurst," Mr. Wanamaker's Country 

Residence 567 

Places loi Worship in New York in 1742, .571 
Bible Brought Over in the Mayflower, . .571 

Old Dutch Church, Long Island 572 

Moravian Easter Service, Bethlehem, Pa., . 574 

Colonial Monastery, 577 

Passover Supper, 581 

A Slave Hunt, 597 

Zachary Taylor, 600 

Introduction of Slavery, 605 

Executing Negroes in New York 607 

A Cotton-field in Georgia, 611 

A Negro ^'illage in Alabama, 613 

A Planter's House in Georgia, 615 

Statue of Washington, Richmond 618 

Hawthorne's Birthplace, 638 

The Old Manse, Concord, 640 

Whittier's Birthplace, 650 

A Dutch Household, 654 

Interior of Memorial Hall, 668 

Memorial Hall, Harvard University, . . . 669 

Greenwood Cemetery, 682 

Franklin's Printing Press 687 

Single Small Cylinder Press, 691 

The Bullock-Hoe Perfecting Press, .... 693 

Negro Village in Georgia, 700 

A New England Cotton Mill, 706 



FULL PAGE oT.. PORTRAITS. 



PAGE 

Edward Everett Hale 5 

George NVasliington, 32 

Benjamin P^anklin, -58 

John Adams 74 

John Jay, 92 

Alexander Hamilton, 100 

Thomas Jefferson, 114 

Andrew Jackson 130 

Martin Van Buren, 142 

John Qiiincy Adams, 160 

Henry Clay 176 

James K. Polk, 1S6 

Daniel Webster, 192 

John Tyler, 200 

Millard Fillmore 202 

John C. Calhoun 206 

James Monroe, 208 

Samuel Houston, 216 

Abraham Lincoln, 228 

General Winfield Scott 243 

Andrew Johnson 250 

William H. Seward 252 

William Ewart Gladstone, 262 

Charles Sumner 264 

Franklin Pierce 269 

James Buchanan, 273 

Ulysses S. Grant 276 

William T. Sherman 316 

George B. McClellan 328 

Philip H. Sheridan, 334 

George G. Meade, 342 

George H. Thomas, 348 

Robert E. Lee, 354 

Thomas J. ("Stonewall ") Jackson, . . . .368 

John Ericsson, 376 

John Paul Jones, 379 

David G. Farragut 400 

Admiral David D. Porter, 404 

James A. Garfield, 410 

Garfield at the .\ge of Sixteen, 414 

Hon. John Sherman, 417 

Chester .\llen -Vrthur, Garfield's Successor. . 418 

Samuel J. Tilden, 424 

Rutherford Burchard Hayes, 430 



PACE 

James G. Blaine, . . 432 

George F. Edmunds 439 

Grover Cleveland, 440' 

Benjamin Harrison, 442 

Chauncey M. Depew, 444 

Robert Fulton, 446 

Samuel F. B. Morse, 453 

Thomas A. Edison, 458 

John Jacob Astor, 470 

George Peabody, 480 

Cornelius Vanderbilt 490 

John M. Toucey, 512 

Cyrus W. Field, 516 

Leland Stanford 524 

George W. Childs, 542 

Marshall Field, 552 

John \\'anamaker 560 

John Wanamaker in Youth 562 

George H. Stuart, 563 

Henry Ward Beeclier, 570 

Bishop J. H. \'in(:ent, 583 

William Lloyd Garrison 594 

Frances E. Willard, 620 

Hannah Whitall Smith 623 

Julia Ward Howe, 632 

Henry W. Longfellow 634 

Ralph Waldo Emerson 642 

Walt Whitman, 644 

James Russell Lowell, 646 

Louisa May Alcott, 648 

William Cullen Bryant 652 

Washington Irving, 653 

J. Fenimore Cooper, 657 

George Bancroft, 659 

Edgar Allan Poe 662 

Nathaniel Hawthorne, 663 

Henry D. Thoreau 665 

John G. Whitticr, 666 

Horace Greeley, 674 

William Henry Harrison, 677 

Whitelaw Reid, Greeley's Successor, . . . 679 

Jefferson Davis, 68 1 

Harriet Beecher Stowe, 698 

John Brown, 704 



30 



GEORGE WASHINGTON, 

FATHER AND KOUNDER OK THE REPUBLIC. 



AMONG the multitude who in different 
lands and times have won fame in vary- 
ing degrees, a few stand out so distinct, 
so far above the rest, that they mark the 
eras of the world's progress. By them 
we measure our growth ; by them we 
test our advance or decline. We no 
longer judge them, but rather judge 
ourselves by them, by the extent to 
which we can appreciate and under- 
stand them. An age in which they are 
honored is glorious ; a generation by 
which they are not esteemed is con- 
temptible. Among the few thus truly 
great is Washington. A thousand times 
has the story of his noble life been told ; 
yet never were men so eager to hear it 
as now. His character has endured 
every test; his fame Is secure. "It will 
be the duty of the historian in all ages," 
says Lord Brougham, "to omit no occa- 
sion of commemorating this illustrious 
man ; . . . and until time shall be no 
more will a test of the progress which 
our race has made in wisdom and virtue 
be derived from the veneration paid to the immortal name of Washington." 

Two centuries ago Virginia was almost an unexplored wilderness ; but the 
climate, the soil, the rivers, bays, mountains, valleys, all combined to render it 
one of the most attractive spots upon our globe. Two young brothers, Law- 
rence and John Washington, were lured by these attractions to abandon their 
home in England, and seek their fortunes in this new world. They were both 




A VIRGINIA PLANTATION GATEWAY. 



34 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

gentlemen. Lawrence was a fine scholar, a graduate of Oxford ; John was an 
accomplished man of business. 

The two brothers had purchased a large tract of land about fifty miles 
above the mouth of the Potomac, and on its western banks. John built him a 
house, and married Anne Pope. Augustine, his second son, inherited the 
paternal homestead. Augustine's first wife, Jane Butler, as lovely in character 
as she was beautiful in person, died, leaving three little motherless children. 
The disconsolate father, in the course of years, found another mother for his 
bereaved household. 

He was singularly fortunate in his choice. Mary Ball was everything that 
husband or child could desire. She was beautiful in person, intelligent, accom- 
plished, energetic and prudent, and a warm hearted Christian. Augustine and 
Mary were married on the 6th of March, 1730. On the 22d of February, 1732, 
they received into their arms their first-born child. Little did they dream, as 
they bore their babe to the baptismal font and called him George Washington, 
that that name was to become one of the most memorable in the annals of 
time. 

BOYHOOD DAYS. 

From earliest childhood George developed a very noble character. He had 
a vigorous constitution, a fine form, and great bodily strength. In childhood he 
was noted for frankness, fearlessness, and moral courage ; and yet far removed 
from manifesting a quarrelsome spirit. He never tyrannized over others ; and 
none were found to attempt to tyrannize over him. 

After twelve happy years of union with Mary Ball, when George was but 
ten years of age, Augustine Washington died, leaving George and five other 
children fatherless. The mother was equal to the task thus imposed upon her. 
The confidence of her husband in her judgment and maternal love is indicated 
by the fact that he left the income of the entire property to her until her children 
should respectively come of age. Nobly .she discharged the task. A nation's 
homage gathers around the memory of the mother of Washington. Life's 
severe discipline developed a character simple, sincere, grave, cheered with 
earnest and unostentatious piety. Her well-balanced mind gave her great influ- 
ence over her son, which she retained until the hour of her death. 

Mrs. Alexander Hamilton tells the story that, when George Washington 
was in the meridian of his fame, a brilliant party was given in his honor at 
Fredericksburg, Va. When the church-bell rang the hour of nine, his mother 
rose and said, " Come, George, It is nine o'clock : it is time for us to go home." 
George, like a dutiful son, offered her his arm, and they retired. Mrs. Hamil 
ton admits, however, that after Washington had seen his mother safely home 
he returned to the party. 

At sixteen years of age George, then a man in character, and almost a man 



LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. 35 

in stature, left school. He excelled in mathematical studies, and had become 
familiar with the principles of geometry and trigonometry and of practical sur- 
veying. In was then his intention to become a civil engineer. At that time, in 
this new and rapidly-growing country, there was great demand for such services, 
and the employment was very lucrative. He had formed his character upon the 
right model. Everything he did he did well. If he wrote a letter, every word 
was as plain as print, with spelling, capitals, punctuation, all correct. His dia- 
grams and tables were never scribbled off, but all executed with great beaut); 
These excellent habits, thus early formed, were retained through life. 

Upon leaving school George went to spend a little time with his elder 
brother, Lawrence, at Mount Vernon. Then, as now, that was an enchanting 
spot. The house, situated upon a swell of land, commanded an extensive view 
of the Potomac and of the surrounding country. It was nearly one hundred 
miles above the home of George. Lord Fairfax, a man of large fortune and 
romantic tastes, had been lured by the charms of this delightful region to pur- 
chase a vast territory, which extended far away, over the Blue Mountains. It 
wa."; a property embracing rivers and mountains, forests and prairies, and wealth 
un'=ixplored. Lord Fairfax was charmed with young Washington, his frankness, 
his intelligence, his manliness, his gentlemanly bearing, — a boy in years, a man 
in maturity of wisdom and character ; and he engaged this lad, then but one 
month over sixteen years of age, to explore and survey these pathless wilds, a 
large portion of which was then ranged only by wild beasts and savage men. It 
may be doubted whether a lad of his age ever before undertook a task so ardu- 
ous. With a few attendants, the boy entered the wilderness. We have some 
extracts from the journal which he kept, which give us a vivid idea of the life he 
then led. Under date of March 15, 1748, he writes: — 

" Worked hard till night, and then returned. After supper, we were lighted 
into a room ; and I, not being so good a woodman as the rest, stripped myself 
very orderly, and went into the bed, as they call it, when, to my surprise, I found 
it to be nothing but a little straw matted together, without sheet or anything else, 
but only one threadbare blanket, with double its weight of vermin. I was glad 
to get up and put on my clothes, and lie as my companions did. Had we not 
been very tired, I am sure we should not have slept much that night. I made a 
promise to sleep so no more in a bed, choosing rather to sleep in the open air 
before a fire." 

On the 2d of April he writes, "A blowing, rainy night. Our straw, upon 
which we were lying, took fire ; but I was luckily preserved by one of our men 
awaking when it was in a flame. We have run off four lots this day." 

George returned from this tramp with nil his energies consolidated by toil, 
peril, and hardship. Though but seventeen years of age, he was a responsible, 
self-reliant man. The State of Virginia now employed him as public surveyor. 




WASHINI-.TON'S RECEPTION AT TRENTON. 



A PERILOUS JOURNEY. 37 

For three years he was engaged in these laborious duties, which introduced him 
to scenes of romance and adventure. Though he often, during these three years, 
visited his mother, his headquarters were with his brother at Mount Vernon, as 
this was mucli nearer. Lord Fairfax, who, it is said, was the victim of a love 
disappointment, had built him a substantial stone mansion in the valley beyond 
the Blue Ridge, where he was living in a sort of baronial splendor, and where 
George was an ever welcome guest. 

MISSION TO THE FRENCH COMMANDER. 

Having performed his duty as surveyor so well, he was chosen adjutant- 
general, with the rank of major, over a portion of the militia whose duty it was 
to repel the encroachments of the French and Indians. In the meantime, how- 
ever, he was absent four months in Barbadoes with a sick brother. The next 
year, being then twenty-one years of age, he was sent as commissioner by 
Governor Dinwiddie to demand of the French commander why he had invaded 
the king's colonies. For seven hundred and fifty miles, more than half of the 
distance through an unbroken wilderness, he made his way, accompanied by 
only seven persons ; and after forty-one days of toil, in the middle of Decem- 
ber he reached his destination. Having concluded his mission, he set out in the 
dead of winter to retrace his dreary route. The horses after a while gave out, 
and the drivers were left to take care of them, while he and one companion 
pushed on alone, on foot, through the wilderness. Traveling in this manner, 
they came upon an Indian, who, under the pretence of acting as guide, led them 
off their route, and then shot at them. Sparing his life, contrary to the wishes 
of his friend, Washington soon got rid of him, and walked all night to escape 
pursuit. Coming to the Alleghany river, they found it only partly frozen over, 
and here the two friends lay down upon the bank in the cold snow, with 
nothing but their blankets over them, and thus, weary and hungry, passed the 
dreary night. The next morning they set to work with a single hatchet to build 
a raft. They worked all day long on the frail thing, and just after sunset suc- 
ceeded in launching it on the turbulent stream. When nearly half across, huge 
fragments of floating ice came driving down the current, and, jamming against 
the crazy fabric, jerked them overboard, into ten feet of water. The two 
adventurers swam and waded to an island, where, amid frost and snow, wet to 
the skin, without a blanket to cover them or a spark of fire, with their clothes 
frozen stiff upon their backs, they passed the long, wintry night. They were 
now without the means of reaching either shore ; but the biting cold that be- 
numbed their limbs froze also the river, so that when morning dawned it was 
bridged over with ice between them and the shore. Escaping the shot of the 
Indian, the dangers of the forest, and death by cold, they at length, after an 
absence of eleven weeks, arrived safely at home. 



38 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

Washington's journal of this tour was pubUshed in London, and attracted 
much attention, as it contained conclusive proof that the French -would resist 
any attempts of the English to establish their settlements upon the Ohio. The 
Legislature of Vircrinia was in session at Williamsburtr when Washino^ton 
returned. Modestly, and unconscious that he would attract any attention, he 
went into the gallery to observe the proceedings. The Speaker chanced to see 
him, and, rising, proposed that 

" The thanks of this house be given to Major Washington, who now sits in 
the gallery, for the gallant manner in which he has executed the important trust 
lately reposed in him by his excellency the governor." 

Every member of the house rose to his feet ; and Washington was greeted 
with a simultaneous and enthusiastic burst of applause. Embarrassed by the 
unexpected honor, and unaccustomed to public speaking, the young hero en- 
deavored in vain to give utterance to his thanks. Out of this painful dilemma 
the eloquent Speaker helped him as generously as he had helped him into it. " Sit 
down, Mr. Washington," said he, in his most courteous manner, "your modesty 
equals your valor, and that surpasses the power of any language that I possess." 
Nothing could be more elegant or skilful than this double stroke, which not only 
relieved Washington, but paid him at the same time the highest compliment that 
could be bestowed. 

braddock's expedition. 

Early in the spring of 1755 General Braddock, a self-conceited, stubborn' 
man, landed in Virginia with two regiments of regular troops from Great 
Britain. Arrogant in the pride of his technical military education, he despised 
alike Frenchmen, Indians, and colonists. With his force, Braddock started on 
a march through the wilderness for the reduction of Fort Duquesne. Washing- 
ton accompanied him as volunteer aid. In a straggling line four miles in length, 
this army of two thousand men, totally unacquainted with Indian warfare, and 
thoroughly despising such barbaric foes, commenced its march, with ponderous 
artillery and a cumbrous baggage-train, through the forest, for the distant junc- 
tion of the Alleghany and the Monongahela. Washington, who well knew the 
foe they were to encounter, was alarmed at this recklessness, and urged greater 
caution. The regular British general was not to be taught the art of w^ar by a 
provincial colonel, who had never even seen the inside of a military school. Suc- 
cessfully they had threaded the wilderness, and on a beautiful summer's day they 
were exultingly marching along the banks of the Monongahela, when they 
entered a defile of picturesque beauty. 

Suddenly, like the burst of thunder from the cloudless heavens, came the 
crash of musketry, and a tempest of lead swept through their ranks. Crash 
followed crash in quick succession, before, behind, on the right, on the left. No 
foe was to be seen ; yet every bullet accomplished its mission. The ground was 



1 



BRADDOCK'S DEFEAT. 



39 



soon covered with the dead and wounded. Amazement and consternation ran 
through the ranks. An unseen foe was assailing them. Braddock stood his 
ground with bull-dog courage, until he fell, pierced by a bullet. When nearly 
half of the army were slain, the remnant broke in wild disorder and fled. The 
ambush was entirely successful. Six hundred of these unseen assailants were 
Indians. They made the forest ring with their derision in scorn of the folly of 
Braddock. 

Washington, through this awful scene, which he had been constantly antici- 
pating, was perfectly collected, and, with the coolest courage, did everything 
which human sagacity could do to retrieve the disaster. Two horses were shot 
beneath him, and four bullets passed through his coat. Eight hundred of Brad- 
dock's army, including most of the officers, were either dead or wounded. 
Washington rallied around him the few provincials, upon whom Braddock had 
looked with contempt. Each man instantly placed himself behind a tree, 
according to the necessities of forest warfare. As the Indians burst from theii 
ambush, the unerring fire of the provincials checked them and drove them back. 
But for this the army would have been utterly destroyed. All Washington's 
endeavors to rally the British regulars were unavailing. Indignantly he writes, 
"They ran like sheep before the hounds." Panic-stricken, abandoning artillery 
and baggage, they continued their tumultuous retreat to the Atlantic coast. The 
provincials, in orderly march, protected them from pursuit. Braddock's defeat 
rang through the land as Washington's victory. The provincials, who, submit- 
ting to military authority, had allowed themselves to be led into this valley of 
death, proclaimed far and wide the precautions which Washington had urged, 
and the heroism with which he had rescued the remnant of the army. 

The French made no attempt to pursue their advantage, but quietly retired 
to Fort Duquesne, there to await another assault, should the English decide to 
make one. A force of about seven hundred men was raised, and placed under 
the command of Washington, to protect the scattered villages and dwellings of 
this vast frontier. For three years Washington gave all his energies to this 
arduous enterprise. It would require a volume to record the awful scenes 
through which he passed during these three years. 

In November, 1758, Fort Duquesne was wrested from the French, and the 
valley of the Ohio passed from their control forever. The Canadas soon after 
surrendered to Wolfe, and English supremacy was established upon this conti- 
nent without a rival. 

Washington was now twenty-six years of age. The beautiful estate of 
Mount Vernon had descended to him by inheritance. On the 6th of January, 
1759, he married Mrs. Martha Custis, a lady of great worth and beauty. Wash- 
ington was already wealthy ; and his wife brought with her, as her dower, a 
fortune of one hundred thousand dollars. After the tumultuous scenes of his 




BARON STEUBBN. GOV. ARTHUR ST. CLAIR. SRC V SAMUEL A. OTIS. ROGBR SHERMAN. GOV. GBORGR CLINTON. 

CHANCELLOR ROBERT R. LlVINGSluN. GEORGE WASHINGTON. GBN'l HENRY KNOX 



WASHINGTON TAKING THE OATH AS PRESIDENT, 

APRIL 30, I7S9, ON THE SITE OF THE PRESENT TREASURY BUILDING, WALL STREET, NEW VORK CITY, 

Virginia gave us this imperial man. 

Cast in the massive mould 

Of those high-statured ages old 

Which into grander forms our mortal metal ran ; 



Mother of Stales and undiminished men, 
Thou gavest us a Country, giving him. 

—James Russell Lowbll. 



THE BEGINNING OF WAR. 



41 



youth, he retired with his bride and her two children to the lovely retreat of 
Mount Vernon, where he spent fifteen years of almost unalloyed happiness. 
He enlarged the mansion, embellished the grounds, and by purchase made very 
considerable additions to his large estate. 

OUTBREAK OF THE REVOLUTION. 

During these serene years of peace and prosperity an appalling storm was 
gathering, which soon burst with fearful desolation over all the colonies. The 
British ministry, denying the colonists the rights of British subjects, insisted 
upon exercising the despotic power of imposing taxes upon the colonists, while 
withholding the right of representation. All American remonstrances were 
thrown back with scorn. Troops were sent to enforce obedience to the man- 
dates of the British Crown. The Americans sprang to arms, called a Congress, 
and chose George Washington commander-in-chief 

To the Congress which elected him he replied : "I beg leave to assure the 
Congress that, as no pecuniary consideration could have tempted me to accept 
this arduous employment at the expense of my domestic ease and happiness, 
I do not wish to make any profit from it. I will keep an exact account of my 
expenses. Those, I doubt not, they will discharge. That is all I desire." 

To his wife, the object of his most tender affection, he wrote that it was his 
greatest affliction to be separated from her, but that duty called, and he must 
obey. He said that he could not decline the appointment without dishonoring 
his name, and sinking himself even in her esteem. 

On the 2d of July Washington arrived in Cambridge and took command 
of the army. The ceremony took place under the elm-tree which still stands 
immortalized by the event. General Gage was commander of the British forces. 
Twelve thousand British regulars were intrenched on Bunker's Hill and in the 
streets of Boston. About fifteen thousand provincial militia, wretchedly armed 
and without any discipline, occupied a line nearly twelve miles in extent, en- 
circling, on the land side, Charlestown and Boston. The British war-ships held 
undisputed possession of the harbor. 

At length, in March, 1776, after months of toil and surmounting difficulties 
more than can be enumerated, Washington was prepared for decisive action. 
In a dark and stormy night he opened upon the foe in the city, from his encir- 
cling lines, as fierce a bombardment as his means would allow. Under cover of 
this roar of the batteries and the midnight storm, he dispatched a large force of 
picked troops, with the utmost secrecy, to take possession of the Heights of 
Dorchester. There, during the hours of the night, the soldiers worked with the 
utmost diligence in throwing up breastworks which would protect them from the 
broadsides of the English fleet. Having established his batteries upon those 
heights, he commanded the harbor. 



42 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

In the early dawn of the morning, the British Admiral saw, to his con 
sternation, that a fort bristling with cannon had sprung up during the night 
almost over his head. He immediately opened upon the works the broadsides 
of all his ships ; but the Americans, defiant of the storm of iron which fell 
around them, continued to pile their sand-bags and to ply their shovels, until 
they had thrown up ramparts so strong that no cannonade could injure them. 
The British fleet was now at the mercy of Washington's batteries. In a spirit 
almost of desperation, the Admiral ordered three thousand men in boats to land 
and take the heights at every hazard. But a great storm came to the aid of 
the colonists. The gale increased to such fury that not a boat could be launched. 
Before another day and night had passed the redoubt was made so strong that 
it could defy any attack. 

It was the morning of the 17th of March, 1776. The storm had passed 
away. The blue sky overarched the beleaguered city and the encamping armies. 
Washington sat upon his horse, serene and majestic, and contemplated in silent 
triumph, from the Heights of Dorchester, the evacuation of Boston. The 
whole British army was crowded on board the ships. A fresh breeze from the 
west filled their sails ; and the hostile armament, before the sun went down, had 
disappeared beyond the distant horizon. It was a glorious victory. Such 
another case, perhaps, history does not record. Washington, zuithout ammuni- 
tion, had maintained his post for six months within musket-shot of a powerful 
British army. During this time he had disbanded the small force of raw militia 
he at first had with him, and had recruited another army ; and had then driven 
the enemy into his ships, and out into the sea. 

The latter part of June, just before the Declaration of Independence, two 
large British fleets, one from Halifax and the other direct from England, met at 
the mouth of the Bay of New York, and, disembarking a powerful army, took 
possession of Staten Island. Washington had assembled all his available mili- 
tary force to resist their advances. The British Government regarded the leaders 
of the armies, and their supporters in Congress, as felons, doomed to the scaffold. 
They refused, consequently, to recognize any titles conferred by Congress. 

By the middle of August the British had assembled, on Staten Island and 
at the mouth of the Hudson River, a force of nearly thirty thousand soldiers, 
with a numerous and well-equipped fleet. To oppose them Washington had 
about twelve thousand men, poorly armed, and quite unaccustomed to military 
discipline and the hardships of the camp. A few regiments of American troops, 
about five thousand in number, were gathered near Brooklyn. A few thousand 
more were stationed at other points on Long Island. The English landed with- 
out opposition, fifteen thousand strong, and made a combined assault upon the 
Americans. The battle was short, but bloody. The Americans, overpowered, 
sullenly retired, leaving fifteen hundred of their number either dead or in the 



A CAMPAIGN OF RETREATS. 43 

hands of the English. A vastly superior force of well-trained British troops, 
Hushed with victory, pressed upon the rear of the dispirited colonists. Their 
situation seemed desperate. 

Again Providence came to our aid. The wind died away to a perfect calm, 
so that the British Heet could not move. A dense fog was rolled in from the 
ocean. The Americans, familiar with every foot of the ground, improved the 
propitious moments. Boats were rapidly collected ; and, in the few hours of 
that black night, nine thousand men, with nearly all their artillery and military 
stores, were safely landed in New York. The transportation was conducted so 
secretly that, though the Americans could hear the English at work with their 
pickaxes, the last boat had left the Long Island shore ere the retreat was sus- 
pected. 

The American army was now in a deplorable condition. It had neither arms, 
ammunition, nor food. The soldiers were unpaid, almost mutinous, and in rags. 
There were thousands in the vicinity of New York who were in sympathy with 
the British. Nearly all the Government officials and their friends were on that 
side. A conspiracy was formed, in which a part of Washington's own guard 
was implicated, to seize him, and deliver him to that ignominious death to which 
the British Crown had doomed him. 

Washington was equal to the crisis. He saw that the only hope was to be 
found in avoiding an engagement, and in wearing out the resources of the enemy 
in protracted campaigns. He slowly retired from New York to the Heights of 
Harlem, with sleepless vigilance watching every movement of the foe, that he 
might take advantage of the slightest indiscretion. Here he threw up breast- 
works, which the enemy did not venture to attack. The British troops ascended 
the Hudson and East River to assail Washington in his rear. A weary cam- 
paign of marches and counter-marches ensued, in which Washington, v/ith 
scarcely a shadow of an army, sustained, in the midst of a constant succession 
of disasters, the apparently hopeless fortunes of his country. At one time 
General Reed in anguish exclaimed, — 

" My God ! General Washington, how long shall we fly ?" 

Serenely Washington replied, "We shall retreat, if necessary, over every 
river of our country, and then over the mountains, where I will make a last stand 



agamst our enemies. 



THE NEW JERSEY CAMPAIGN. 

Washington crossed the Hudson into the Jerseys. The British pursued 
him. With consummate skill, he baffled all the efforts of the foe. With an army 
reduced to a freezing, starving band of but three thousand men, he retreated to 
Trenton. The British pressed exultantly on, deeming the conflict ended and the 
Revolution crushed. It was December. The foe tracked the patriots by the 
blood of their lacerated feet on the frozen ground. With great difficulty Wash- 



THE SURPRISE AT TRENTON. 



4S 



ington succeeded in crossing the Delaware in boats, just as the British army 
arrived upon the banks of the stream. They needed but to cross the river to 
take possession of Philadelphia. The ice was so rapidly forming that they 
would soon be able to pass at any point without obstruction. The enemy, with 
apparently nothing to fear, relaxed his vigilance. 

The night of December 25, 1776, was very dark and intensely cold. A 
storm of wind and snow raged violently. The British, considering the patriots 
utterly dispersed, and that a broad, icy river flowed between them and the 
retreating American bands, gathered around the firesides. In the darkness of 
that wintry night, and amidst the conflict of its elements, Washington re- 
embarked his troops to recross the Delaware. Forcing his boats through the 
floating blocks of ice, he succeeded, before daylight the next morning, in land- 
ing upon the opposite shore twenty-four hundred men and twenty pieces of 
cannon. The British were carelessly dispersed, not dreaming of danger. The 
Americans sprang upon the first body of the foe they met, and, after a short 
but bloody strife, scattered them, capturing a thousand prisoners and six cannon. 
The British retreated to Princeton, and Washington took possession of Trenton. 
Soon Lord Cornwallis, having received large reinforcements, marched upon 
Trenton, confident that General Washington could no longer escape them. At 
the close of a bleak winter day his army appeared before the lines which 
Washington had thrown up around Trenton. "To-morrow," he said, "at the 
break of day, I will attack them. The rising sun shall see the end of the 
rebellion." 

The sun rose the next morning, cold but cloudless. In the night the 
American army had vanished. Replenishing his camp-fires to deceive the 
enemy, at midnight, with the utmost precaution and precipitation, he evacuated 
his camp, and, by a circuitous route, fell upon the rear of the English at Prince- 
ton. A hundred and sixty of the British were shot down, and three hundred 
were taken prisoners. 

Cheered by this success, Washington led his handful of troops to the 
Heights of Morristown. There he intrenched them for winter-quarters. He, 
however, sent out frequent detachments, which so harassed the enemy that, in a 
short time. New Jersey was delivered from their presence. The country was 
animated by these achievements, and Congress roused itself to new energies. 

During the remainder of the winter vigorous efforts were made in prepara- 
tion for the opening of the spring campaign. The different States sent troops 
to join the army at Morristown. The people of France, in sympathy with our 
cause, sent two vessels. The Marquis de Lafayette left his mansion of opulence, 
and his youthful bride, to peril his life in the cause of American independence. 
The British, harassed by Washington's sleepless vigilance, yet unable to compel 
him or to lure him into a general engagement, left New York in a fleet, with 



40 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 



eighteen thousand soldiers, to capture Philadelphia. They landed near Elkton, 
at the head of Chesapeake Bay. Washington, with but eleven thousand men, 
marched to encounter them. The two armies met on the banks of the Brandy- 
wine. A bloody battle ensued. Lafayette was wounded. The Americans, 
overpowered, were compelled to retreat. Washington, after a short but severe 
engagement at Germantown, retired, and the British took possession of Phila- 
delphia. 

Congress precij^tately adjourned to Lancaster, and thence to York 
Winter again came. The British were comfortably housed in Philadelphia, 
Washington selected Valley Forge, about twenty miles from Philadelphia, as his 
winter-quarters. Eleven thousand men here passed the winter of 1777 and 




Oi_^BlRMI^CWAM MEmw&HOuiE 



'"' BATTLE •{ BR«,nD>wiNE 



1778. It was a period of great discouragement and suffering. The army was 
in a state of destitution, which Washington did not dare to proclaim abroad, lest 
the foe should rush upon him in his helplessness. 

In this dark hour France came forward to our aid ; recoirnizine our inde- 
pendence, entering into a friendly alliance with us, and sending both a fleet and 
an army to our support. The British army in New York and Philadelphia 
amounted to thirty thousand men. The whole American army did not exceed 
fifteen thousand. But the British, apprehensive that a French fleet might soon 
appear, and thus endanger the troops in Philadelphia, evacuated the city, and 
the troops commenced their march through New Jersey, The cold of wmter 
had given place to the heat of summer. 



LEE'S TREACHERY. 



47 



Washington followed close in the rear of the foe, watching for a chance to- 
strike. The 28th of June, 1778, was a day of intense heat. Not a breath of 
air was stirring, while an unclouded sun poured 
down its blistering rays upon pursuers and pursued. ,,«?* ?'*' ,. 

The British troops were at Monmouth. The march «!' 

of one more day would so unite them with the arm)- ' ;t*?-:- 

in New York that 
they would be safe 




W \SII1N(.T()N RIIROMNG LEE AT 
MuNMOLlH 



from attack General Lee, with- 
five thousand men, was in the 
advance. Washington sent 
orders to him immediately to 
commence the onset, with the 
assurance that he would hasten 
to his support. As Washington was pressing eagerly forward, to his inexpres- 
sible chagrin he met General Lee at the head of his troops, in full retreat. It 



48 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

is said that Washington, with great vehemence of manner and utterance, cried 
out, "General Lee, what means this ill-timed prudence?" The retreating 
General threw back an angry retort. But it was no time for altercation, 
Washington turned to the men. They greeted him with cheers. At his com- 
mand they wheeled about and charged the enemy. A sanguinary battle 
ensued, and the English were driven from the field. The colonists slept upon 
their arms, prepared to renew the battle in the morning. When the morning 
dawned, no foe was to be seen. The British had retreated in the night, leaving 
three hundred of their dead behind them. The Americans lost but sixty-nine. 

DARK D.WS OF THE WAR. 

Another cold and cheerless winter came. The British remained within 
their lines at New York. They sent agents, however, to the Si.x Nations of 
Indians, to arm them against our defenseless frontier. These fierce savages, 
accompanied by Tory bands, perpetrated horrors too dreadful for recital. The 
massacres of Cherry Valley and of Wyoming were among the most awful trage- 
dies ever witnessed on this globe. The narrative of these fiendish deeds sent a 
thrill of horror throutrh England as well as America. Four thousand men were 
sent by Washington into the wilderness, to arrest, if possible, these massacres. 
The savages and their allies were driven to Niagara, where they were received 
into an English fortress. General Clinton commenced a vigorous prosecution of 
a system of violence and plunder upon defenseless towns and farm-houses. The 
sky was reddened with wanton conllagration. Women and children were driven 
houseless into the fields. The flourishin<j towns of Fairfield and Norwalk, in 
Connecticut, were reduced to ashes. 

While the enemy was thus ravaging that defenseless State, Washington 
planned an expedition against Stony Point, on the Hudson, which was held by 
the British. General Wayne conducted the enterprise, on the night of the 15th 
of fuly, with great gallantry and success. Sixty-three of the British were killed, 
five hundred and forty-three were taken prisoners, and all the military stores of the 
fortress captured. During this summer campaign the American army was never 
sufficiently strong to take the offensive. It was, however, incessantly employed 
striking blows upon the English wherever the eagle eye of Washington could 
discern an exposed spot. 

The winter of 1779 set in early, and with unusual severity. The American 
army was in such a starving condition that Washington was compelled to make 
the utmost exertions to save his wastino- band from annihilation. These lone 
years of war and woe filled many even of the most sanguine hearts with despair. 
Not a few patriots deemed it madness for the colonies, impoverished as they 
were, any longer to contend against the richest and most powerful nation upon 
the globe. General Arnold, who was at this time in command at West Point, 



THE WAR IN THE SOUTH. 



49 



saw no hope for his country. Believing the ship to be sinking, he turned traitor, 
and offered to sell his fortress to the English. The treason was detected, but 
the traitor escaped ; and the lamented Andre, who had been lured into the 
position of a spy, became the necessary victim of Arnold's crime. 

Lord CornwaUis was now, with a well-provided army and an assisting navy, 
overrunning the two Carolinas. General Greene was sent, with all the force 
which Washington could spare, to watch and harass the invaders, and to furnish 
the inhabitants with all the protection in his power. Lafayette was in the 
vicinity of New York, with his eagle eye fixed upon the foe, ready to pounce 
upon any detachment which presented the slightest exposure. Washington was 
everywhere, with patriotism which never flagged, with hope which never failed, 
cheerino; the army, animating the inhabitants, rousin^ Conoress, and cruidine 
with his well-balanced mind both military and civil legislation. Thus the dreary 
year of 1780 lingered away. 

As the spring of 1781 opened, the war was renewed. The British directed 
their chief attention to the South, which was far weaker than the North. Rich- 
mond, in V^irginia, was laid in ashes ; and a general system of devastation and 
plunder prevailed. The enemy ascended the Chesapeake and the Potomac 
with armed vessels. They landed at Mount Vernon. The manager of the 
estate, to save the mansion from pillage and flames, furnished them with abun- 
dant supplies. Washington was much displeased. He wrote to his agent : — 

" It would have been a less painful circumstance to me to have heard that, 
in consequence of your non-compliance with their request, they had burned my 
house and laid the plantation in ruins. You ought to have considered yourself 
as my representative, and should have reflected on the bad example of commu- 
nicating with the enemy, and making a voluntary offer of refreshments to them, 
with a view to prevent a conflagration." 

Lord CornwaUis was now at Yorktown, in Virginia, but a few, miles from 
Chesapeake Bay. There was no force in his vicinity seriously to annoy him. 
Washington resolved, in conjunction with our allies from France, to make a 
bold movement for his capture. An army of six thousand men, under Count 
Rochambeau, had been sent by France to aid the American cause. This army^ 
with the French fleet, were most important aids to Washington. He succeeded 
in deceiving the EngHsh into the belief that he was making great preparations 
for the siege of New York. Thus they were prevented from rendering any aid 
to Yorktown. 

By rapid marches from the neighborhood of New York Washington has- 
tened to Virginia. Early in September Lord CornwaUis, as he arose one morn- 
ing, was amazed to find himself surrounded by the bayonets and batteries of the 
Americans. At about the same hour the French fleet appeared, in invincible 
strength, before the harbor. CornwaUis was caught. There was no escape; 
4 




MEETING OF WASHINGTON AND ROCHAMBEAU. 



THE TRIUMPH AT YORKTOWN. 51 

there was no retreat. Neither by land nor by sea could he obtain any supplies. 
Shot and shell soon began to fall thickly into his lines. Famine stared him in 
the face. After a few days of hopeless conflict, on the 19th of October, 1781, 
he was compelled to surrender. Seven thousand British veterans laid down 
their arms. One hundred and sixty pieces of cannon, with corresponding mili- 
tary stores, graced the triumph. 

When the British soldiers were marching from their intrenchments to lay 
down their arms, Washington thus addressed his troops ; " My brave fellows, 
let no sensation of satisfaction for the triumphs you have gained induce you to 
insult your fallen enemy. Let no shouting, no clamorous huzzaing, increase 
their mortification. Posterity will huzza for us." 

This glorious capture roused renewed hope and vigor all over the country. 
The joyful tidings reached Philadelphia at midnight. A watchman traversed the 
streets, shouting at intervals, "Past twelve o'clock, and Cornwallis is taken!" 
Candles were lighted ; windows thrown up ; figures in night-robes and night-caps 
bent eagerly out to catch the thrilling sound ; shouts were raised ; citizens rushed 
into the streets, half clad, — they wept; they laughed. The news flew upon the 
wings of the wind, nobody can tell how , and the shout of an enfranchised people 
rose, like a roar of thunder, from our whole land. With such a victory, repub- 
lican America would never again yield to the aristocratic government of England. 

Early in May, 1782, the British Cabinet opened negotiations for peace. 
Hostilities were, by each party, tacitly laid aside. Negotiations were protracted 
in Paris during the summer and the ensuing winter. Early in the following 
spring the joyful tidings arrived that a treaty of peace had been signed at Paris. 
The intelligence was communicated to the American army on the 19th of April, 
I 783, — just eight years from the day when the conflict was commenced on the 
Common at Lexington. 

Late in November the British evacuated New York, entered their ships, 
and sailed for their distant island. Washington, marching from West Point, 
entered the city as our vanquished foes departed. America was free and inde- 
pendent. Washington was the savior of his country. 

After an affecting farewell to the officers of the army, Washington set out 
for his Virginia home. At every town and village he was received with love and 
gratitude. At Annapolis he met the Continental Congress, where he was to 
resign his commission. It was the 23d of December, 1783. All the members 
of Congress, and a large concourse of spectators, were present. His address 
closed with the following words : — 

" Having now finished the work assigned me, I retire from the great theatre 
of action, and bidding an affectionate farewell to this august body, under whose 
orders I have so long acted, I here offer my commission, and take my leave of 
all the employments of public life." 



52 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

The next day he returned to Mount Vernon, where he expected to spend 
the remainder of his days as a private citizen. This, however, could not be. 
The wisdom and ability of which he had given such abundant proof was soon 
required once more in his country's service. 

The great problem which now engrossed all minds was the consolidation of 
the thirteen States into a nation. To this subject Washington, who had suffered 
so intensely from the inefficiency of the Continental Congress, devoted his most 
anxious attention. A convention was called in the year 1787. Washington 
was a delegate from Virginia, and was unanimously chosen to preside over its 
deliberations. The result was the present Constitution of the United States ; 
which created a nation from the people of all the States, with supreme powers .1 
for all the purposes of a general government, and leaving with the States those 
questions of local law in which the integrity of the nation was not involved. 
The Constitution of the United States is, in the judgment of the millions of the 
American people, the most sagacious document which has ever emanated from 
uninspired minds. It has created the strongest government upon this globe. 
It has made the United States of America what they now are. The world must 
look at the fruit, and wonder and admire. 

FIRST PRESIDENT OV THE NEW NATION. 

Upon the adoption of the Constitution all eyes were turned to Washington 
as chief magistrate. By the unanimous voice of the Electors he was chosen the 1 
first President of the United States. There was probably scarcely a dissentient 
voice in the nation. New York was then the seat of government. As Wash- 
ington left Mount Vernon for the metropolis to assume these new duties of toil 
and care, we find recorded in his journal : — 

" About ten o'clock I bade adieu to Mount Vernon, to private life, and to 
domestic felicity ; and, with a mind oppressed with more anxious and painful 
sensations than I have words to express, set out for New York, with the best 
disposition to render service to my country in obedience to its call, but with less 
hopes of answering its expectations." 

On his journey to New York Washington was met and escorted by crowds 
of people, who made his progress a march of triumph. At Trenton a beautiful 
arch, decorated with flowers, spanned the road, commemorating his victory , 
over the Hessians in 1776. His path was strewn with flowers, and troops of 
children sanfr songfs of welcome. 

Washington was inaugurated President of the United States on the 30th 
of April, 1 789. He remained in the presidential chair two terms of four years 
each. At the close of his administration, in the year 1796, he again retired to 
the peaceful shades of Mount Vernon. Soon after his return he wrote a letter 
to a friend, in which he described the manner in which he passed his time. He 
rose with the sun, and first made preparations for the business of the day. 



PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS. 53 

" By the time I have accomplished these matters," he adds, " breakfast is 
ready. This being over, I mount my horse, and ride round my farms, which 
employs me until it is time to dress for dinner, at which I rarely miss to see 
strange faces, come, as they say, out of respect to me. And how different is 
this from having a few friends at the social board ! The usual time of sitting at 
table, a walk, and tea, bring me within the dawn of candle-light ; previous to 
which, if not prevented by company, I resolve that, as soon as the glimmering 
taper supplies the place of the great luminary, I will retire to my writing-table, 
and acknowledge the letters I have received. Having given you this history of 
a day, it will serve for a year." 

The following anecdotes have been related, illustrative of President Wash- 
ington's habits of punctuality. Whenever he assigned to meet Congress at 
noon, he seldom failed of passing the door of the hall when the clock struck 
twelve. His dining-hour was at four o'clock, when he always sat down to his 
table, whether his guests were assembled or not, merely allowing five minutes 
for the variation of time-pieces. To those who came late, he remarked, "Gen- 
tlemen, we are punctual here : my cook never asks whether the company has 
arrived, but whether the hour has." 

Captain Pease had a beautiful span of horses, which he wished to sell to the 
President. The President' appointed five o'clock in the morning to examine 
them at his stable. The Captain arrived with his span at quarter past five. He 
was told by the groom that the President was there at five o'clock, but was then 
gone to attend to other engagements. The President's time was wholly occu- 
pied for several days, so that Captain Pease had to remain a whole week in 
Philadelphia before he could get another opportunity to exhibit his span. 

Washington, having inherited a large landed estate in Virginia, was, as a 
matter of course, a slaveholder. The whole number which he held at the time 
of his death was one hundred and twenty-four. The system met his strong 
disapproval. In 1786 he wrote to Robert Morris, saying, "There is no man 
living who wishes more sincerely than I do to see a plan adopted for the aboli- 
tion of slavery." 

! Long before this he had recorded his resolve : "I never mean, unless some 

particular circumstances should compel me to it, to possess another slave by 
purchase ; it being among my first wishes to see some plan adopted by which 
j slavery in this country may be abolished by law." 

Mrs. Washington, immediately after her husband's death, learning from his 
will that the only obstacle to the immediate emancipation of the slaves was her 
j right of dower, immediately relinquished that right, and the slaves were at once 
emancipated. 

The 1 2th of December, 1799, was chill and damp. Washington, however, 
took his usual round on horseback to his farms, and returned late in the after- 



54 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 



noon, wet with sleet, and shivering with cold. Though the snow was clinging 
to his hair behind when he came in, he sat down to dinner without changing his 
dress. The next day three inches of snow whitened the ground, and the sky 
was clouded. Washington, feeling that he had taken cold, remained by the fin 
side during the morning. As it cleared up in the afternoon, he went out to 




THE TOMB OF WASIIINOTON AT MOUNT VERNON. 



superintend some work upon the lawn. He was then hoarse, and the hoarse- 
ness increased as night came on. He, however, took no remedy for it, saying, 
"I never take anything to carry off a cold. Let it go as it came." 

He passed the evening as usual, reading the papers, answering letters, and 
conversing with his family. About two o'clock the next morning, Saturday, the 



LAST HOURS. 55 

14th, he awoke in an ague-chill, and was seriously unwell. At sunrise his 
physician, Dr. Craig, who resided at Alexandria, was sent for. In the mean- 
time he was bled by one of his overseers, but with no relief as he rapidly grew 
worse. Dr. Craig reached Mount Vernon at eleven o'clock, and immediately 
bled his patient again, but without effect. Two consulting physicians arrived 
during the day ; and, as the difficulty in breathing and swallowing rapidly 
increased, venesection was again attempted. It is evident that Washington 
then considered his case doubtful. He examined his will, and destroyed some 
papers which he did not wish to have preserved. 

His sufferings from inflammation of the throat and strugcrlinof for breath, as 
the afternoon wore away, became quite severe. Still, he retained his mental 
faculties unimpaired, and spoke briefly of his approaching death and burial. 
About four o'clock in the afternoon he said to Dr. Craig;, "I die hard ; but I am 
not afraid to go. I believed, from my first attack, that I should not survive it : 
my breath cannot last long." About six o'clock, his physician asked him if he 
would sit up in his bed. He held out his hands, and was raised up on his pillow, 
when he said, " I feel that I am going. I thank you for your attentions. You 
had better not take any more trouble about me, but let me go off quietly. I 
cannot last long." 

He then sank back upon his pillow, and made several unavailing attempts 
to speak intelligibly. About ten o'clock he said, "I am just going. Have me 
decendy buried, and do not let my body be put into the vault until three days 
after I am dead. Do you understand me?" To the reply, "Yes, sir," he 
remarked, "It is well." These were the last words he uttered. Soon after this 
he gently e.xpired, .in the sixty-eighth year of his age. 

At the moment of his death Mrs. Washing-ton sat in silent grief at the foot 
of his bed. "Is he gone?" she asked, in a firm and collected voice. The 
physician, unable to speak, gave a silent signal of assent. "'Tis well," she 
added, in the same untremulous utterance. " All is now over. I shall soon 
follow him. I have no more trials to pass through." 

On the 1 8th his remains were deposited in the tomb at Mount Vernon, 
where they still repose ; and his name and memory live on immortal, forever 
enshrined in the hearts of a grateful people. 

" How sleep the brave who sink to rest 
By all their country's wishes blest ! 
By fairy hands their knell is rung ; 
By forms unseen their dirge is sung ; 
There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, 
To bless the turf that wraps their clay; 
And Freedom shall awhile repair 
To dwell, a weeping hermit, there." 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, 

THE INVENTOR, PHILOSOPHER, AND STATESIVIAN 




O ONE," says a well-known writer, "ever started from 
a lower point than the poor apprentice of Boston ; 
no one ever raised himself higher by his own un- 
aided forces than the inventor of the lightning-rod. 
Better than the biographies of Plutarch, this life, 
so long and so well filled, is a source of perpetual 
instruction to all men. Every one can there find 
counsel and example." 

Franklin's autobiography is one of the most 

fascinatinor books in the lantruaee. It has the charm of 

style common to all of his writings ; and no one who has 

opportunity should miss reading this unrivaled book. It was 

undertaken at first for the edification of the members of his own family, and 

afterward continued at the pressing request of friends in London and Paris. 

His autobiography, however, covers only the first fifty years of his life. 

For three hundred years at least F'ranklin's family lived in the village of 
Ecton, in Northamptonshire, England, the eldest son, who inherited the prop- 
erty, being always brought up to the trade of a smith. Franklin himself "was 
the youngest son of the youngest son for five generations back." Franklin's 
father, Josiah, took his wife and three children to New England, in 1682, where 
he practiced the trade of a tallow-chandler and soap-boiler. Franklin was born 
in 1706, and was the youngest of seventeen children. 

Benjamin being the youngest of ten sons, his father intended him for the 
Church, and sent him to school when eight years of age. Although he made 
very rapid progress in the school, his father concluded he could not afford a 
college education. At the age of ten young Benjamin was taken home to assist 
in cutting the wicks of candles, and otherwise to make himself useful. 

Until twelve years of age Benjamin continued in his father's business, but 
as he manifested a great dislike for it, his parents set about finding some trade 
more congenial to his tastes. With this view his father took him to see various 
artificers at their work, that he might observe the tastes of the boy. This 

59 



6o BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 

experience was very valuable to him, as it taught him to do many little jobs for 
himself. During this time Benjamin spent most of his pocket-money in purchas- 
ing books, some of which he sold when he had read them, in order to buy others. 
He read through most of the books in his father's very limited library. 

At length Franklin's fondness for books caused his father to decide to make 
him a printer. His brother James had already entered that business, and had 
set up in Boston. He signed his indentures when only twelve years old, 
apprenticing himself to his brother until the age of twenty-one. 

Meeting with a book on vegetarianism, Franklin determined to give the 
system a trial. This led to some inconvenience in his brother's housekeeping, 
so Franklin proposed to board himself if his brother would give him half the 
sum he paid for his board. Out of this he was able to save a considerable 
amount for the purpose of buying books. Moreover, the time required for his 
meals was now so short that the dinner-hour afforded considerable leisure for 
reading. 

In 1720 or 1 72 1 James Franklin began to print the New England Courant. 
To this paper, which he helped to compose and print, Benjamin became an 
anonymous contributor. The members of the staff spoke highly of his contribu- 
tions, but when the authorship became known, James conceived a jealousy of his 
younger brother, which led to their separation. An article in the paper having 
offended the Assembly, James was imprisoned for a month, and forbidden to 
print the paper. He then secretly freed Benjamin from his indentures, in order 
that the paper might be published in his name. At length, a disagreement arising, 
Benjamin took advantage of the canceling of his indentures to quit his brother's 
service. As he could get no employment in Boston, he obtained a passage to 
New York, whence he was recommended to go to Philadelphia, which he reached 
after a very troublesome journey. His whole stock of cash then consisted of a 
Dutch dollar and about a shilling's worth of coppers. His first appearance in 
Philadelphia, about eight o'clock on a Sunday morning, was certainly striking. 
A youth between seventeen and eighteen years of age, dressed in his working 
clothes, which were dirty through his journey, with his pockets stuffed out with 
stockings and shirts, his aspect was not calculated to command respect. 

"I walked up the street," he writes, "gazing about, till near the market- 
house I met a boy with bread. I had made many a meal on bread, and, inquir- 
ing where he got it, I went immediately to the baker's he directed me to, on 
Second street, and ask'd for bisket, intending such as we had in Boston ; but 
they, it seems, were not made in Philadelphia. Then I asked for a threepenny 
loaf, and was told they had none such. So, not considering or knowing the dif- 
ference of money, and the greater cheapness, nor the name of his bread, I bade 
him give me three-penny-worth of any sort. He gave me, accordingly, three 
great puffy rolls. I was surpriz'd at the quantity, but took it, and having no 



FRANKLIN IN PHILADELPHIA. 61 

room in my pockets, walk'd off with a roll under each arm, and eating the 
other. Thus I went up Market street as far as Fourth street, passing by the 
door of Mr. Read, my future wife's father; when she, standing at the door, saw 
me, and thought I made, as I certainly did, a most awkward, ridiculous appear- 
ance. Then I turned and went down Chestnut street and part of Walnut street, 
eating my roll all the way, and, coming round, found myself again at Market 
street wharf near the boat I came in, to which I went for a draught of the river 
water ; and, being filled out with one of my rolls, gave the other two to a woman 
and her child that came down the river in the boat with us, and were waiting to 
go further." 

FRANKLIN IN PHILADELPHIA. 

In Philadelphia Franklin obtained an introduction to a printer, named Kei- 
mer, who had set up business with an old press which he appeared not to know 
how to use, and one pair of cases of English type. Here Franklin obtained em- 
ployment when the business on hand would permit, and he put the press in order 
and worked it. Keimer obtained lodging for him at the house of Mr. Read, 
and, by industry and economical living, Franklin soon found himself in easy 
circumstances. Sir William Keith, the Governor of Pennsylvania, hearing of 
Franklin, called upon him, and promised to obtain for him the Government print- 
ing if he would set up for himself. Josiah Franklin thought his son too young 
to take the responsibility of a business, whereon the Governor, stating that he 
was determined to have a good printer there, promised to find the means of equip- 
ping the printing-office himself and suggested Franklin's making a journey to 
England to purchase the plant. He promised letters of introduction to various 
persons in England, as well as a letter of credit. These were to be sent on 
board the ship, and Franklin, having gone on board, awaited the letters. When 
the Governor's despatches came, they were all put into a bag together, and the 
captain promised to let Franklin have his letters before landing. On opening 
the bag off Plymouth, there were no letters of the kind promised, and Franklin 
was left, without introductions and almost without money, to make his own way 
in the world. In London he learned that Governor Keith was well known as a 
man in whom no dependence could be placed, and as to his giving a letter of 
■credit, " he had no credit to give." 

A friend of Franklin's, named Ralph, accompanied him from America, and 
the two took lodgings together. Franklin immediately obtained employment at 
a printing-office, but Ralph, who knew no trade but aimed at literature, was unable 
to get any work. He could not obtain employment, even as a copying clerk, so 
for some time the wages which Franklin earned had to support the two. 

Among Franklin's fellow-passengers from Philadelphia to England was an 
American merchant, a Mr. Denham. This gentleman always remained a firm 
friend to Franklin, who, during his stay in London, sought his advice when any 



62 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 



important questions arose. When Mr. Denham returned to Philadelphia, he 
offered Franklin an appointment as clerk, which was afterward to develop into 
a commission agency. The offer was accepted, and the two returned to Phila- 
delphia in October, 1726. Here he found that Miss Read, to whom he had 
become engaged before leaving for England, and to whom he had written only 
once during his absence, had married. Shortly after starting in business, Mr. 
Denham died, and thus left Franklin to commence life again for himself Kei- 
mer had by this time obtained a fairly extensive establishment, and employed a 




penn's residence in second street, below chestnut street. 



number of hands, but none of them of much value ; and he made overtures to 
Franklin to take the management of his printing-office. Franklin set the print- 
ing-house in order, started type-founding, made the ink, and, when necessary, 
executed engravings. 

While working for Keimer, Franklin formed a club, called the Junto, which 
was destined to exert considerable influence on American politics. It was essen- 
tially a debating society, the subject for each evening's discussion being proposed 
at the preceding meeting. The Club lasted for about forty years, and became 



"POOR RICHARD'S ALMANACK." 63 

the nucleus of the American Philosophical Society, of which Franklin was the 
first president. 

On leaving Keimer's, Franklin went into partnership with one of his fellow- 
workmen, Hugh Meredith, whose father found the necessary capital, and a print- 
ing-office was started which soon excelled its two rivals in Philadelphia. Frank- 
lin's industry attracted the attention of the townsfolk, and inspired the merchants 
with confidence in the prospects of the new concern. 

" In order to secure my credit and character as a tradesman, I took care not 
only to be in reality industrious and frugal, but to avoid all appearances to the 
contrary. I drest plainly ; I was seen at no places of idle diversion. I never 
went out a-fishing or shooting ; a book, indeed, sometimes debauch'd me from 
my work, but that was seldom, snug, and gave no scandal ; and, to show that I 
was not above my business, I sometimes brought home the paper I purchas'd at 
the stores thro' the streets on a wheelbarrow. Thus being esteem'd an indus- 
trious, thriving young man, and paying duly for what I bought, the merchants 
who imported stationery solicited my custom ; others proposed supplying me with 
books, and I went on swimmingly. In the meantime, Keimer's credit declin- 
ing daily, he was at last forc'd to sell his printing-house to satisfy his creditors." 

On September i, 1730, Franklin married his former y?a«^<?^, whose previous 
husband had left her and was reported to have died in the West Indies. The 
marriage was a very happy one. Industry and frugality reigned in the house- 
hold of the young printer. Mrs. Franklin not only managed the house, but 
assisted in the business, folding and stitching pamphlets, and in other ways 
making herself useful. 

PUBLIC SERVICE AND RESPONSIBILITV. 

In 1732 appeared the first copy of " Poor Richard's Almanack." This was 
published by Franklin for about twenty-five years in succession, and attained a 
world-wide fame. Besides the usual astronomical information, it contained a 
collection of entertaining anecdotes, verses, jests, etc., while the "little spaces 
that occurred between the remarkable events in the calendar" were filled with 
proverbial sayings, inculcating industry and frugality as helps to virtue. These 
sayings were collected and prefixed to the almanack of 1757, whence they were 
copied into the American newspapers, and afterward reprinted as a broad-sheet 
in England and in France. 

In 1736 Franklin was chosen Clerk to the General Assembly, an office to 
which he was annually re-elected until he became a member of the Assembly 
about 1750. There was one member who, on the second occasion of his 
election, made a long speech against him. Franklin determined to secure the 
friendship of this member. Accordingly, he wrote to him to request the loan 
of a very scarce and curious book which was in his library. The book was lent 



64 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 

and returned in about a week, with a note of thanks. The member ever after 
manifested a readiness to serve Franklin, and they became great friends — 
" Another instance of the truth of an old maxim I had learned, which says, 'He 
that has once done you a kindness will be more ready to do you another than lie 
whom you yourself have obliged.' And it shows how much more profitable it is 
to prudently remove, than to resent, return, and continue inimical proceedings." 

Spain, having been for some years at war with England, was joined at length 
by France. This threatened danger to the American colonies. Franklin pub- 
lished a pamphlet entitled "Plain Truth," setting forth the unarmed condition 
of the colonies, and recommending the formation of a volunteer force for 
defensive purposes. The pamphlet excited much attention. The provision of 
war material was a difficulty with the Assembly, which consisted largely of 
Quakers, who, though privately willing that the country should be put in a state 
of defense, hesitated to vote in opposition to their peace principles. Hence, 
when the Government of New England asked a grant of gunpowder from Penn- 
sylvania, the Assembly voted ^3000 "for the purchasing of bread, flour, wheat, 
or other grain!' When it was proposed to devote ^60 toward the erection of 
a battery below the town, Franklin suggested that it should be proposed that a 
fire-engine be purchased with the money, and that the committee should "buy 
a great gun, which is certainly 2iJire-engineJ' 

The "Pennsylvania fireplace" was invented in 1742. A patent was offered 
to Franklin by the Governor of Pennsylvania, but he declined it on the principle 
" that, as we enjoy great advantages from the inventions of others, we should be 
glad of an opportunity to serve others by any invention of otirs; and this we 
should do freely atid generously!' 

Having practically retired from business, Franklin intended to devote him- 
self to philosophical studies, having commenced his electrical researches some 
time before in conjunction with the other members of the Library Company. 
Public business, however, crowded upon him. He was elected a member of the 
Assembly, a councillor, and afterward an alderman of the city, and by the 
Governor was made a justice of the peace. As a member of the Assembly, he 
was largely concerned in providing the means for the erection of a hospital, and 
in arranging for the paving and cleansing of the streets of the city. In 1753 he 
was appointed, in conjunction with Mr. Hunter, Postmaster-General of America. 
The post-office of the colonies had previously been conducted at a loss. In a few 
years, under Franklin's management, it not only paid the stipends of himself 
and Mr. Hunter, but yielded a considerable revenue to the Crown. 

In 1754 war with France appeared to be again imminent, and a Congress 
of Commissioners from the several colonies was arranged for. Of course, 
F"ranklin was one of the representatives of Pennsvlvania, and was also one of 
the members who independendy drew up a plan for the union of all the colonies 



JOURNEY TO ENGLAND. 65 

under one government, for defensive and other general purposes, and his was 
the plan finally approved by Congress for the union, though it was not accepted 
by the Assemblies or by the English Government, being regarded by the former 
as having too much of Xk\.^ prerogative in it, by the latter as being too democratic. 
Franklin wrote respecting this scheme : " The different and contrary reasons of 
dislike to my plan makes me suspect that it was really the true medium ; and I 
am still of opinion that it would have been happy for both sides the water if it 
had been adopted. The colonies, so united, would have been sufficiently strong 
to have defended themselves ; there would then have been no need of troops 
from England ; of course, the subsequent pretense for taxing America, and the 
bloody contest it occasioned, would have been avoided." 

In the following year General Braddock started on his famous e.xpedition 
against Fort Duquesne. Franklin's services were called for in providing 
horses and wagons from the Pennsylvania farmers ; and in the disastrous defeat 
which Braddock suffered, and in the long years of the French and Indian war 
which followed, Franklin took a prominent part in devising means of protection 
for the Colonies. When at last the war was ended by the victory and death 
of Wolfe on the heights of Quebec, Franklin's attention was turned to the 
relations of the Colonies to the mother country, which were becoming daily 
more strained by the oppressions of the British Parliament. 

FRANKLIN SENT TO ENGLAND. 

In 1757 Franklin was sent by the Assembly of Pennsylvania to London, 
to present a remonstrance against the conduct of the Governor, who refused to 
assent to bills for raising revenue for the king unless the proprietary estates 
were exempted from taxation. When Franklin reached London he took up his 
abode with Mrs. Margaret Stevenson. For Mrs. Stevenson and her daughter 
Mary, then a young lady of eighteen, he acquired a sincere affection, which con- 
tinued throughout their lives. Miss Stevenson spent much of her time with an 
aunt in the country, and some of Franklin's letters to her respecting the con- 
duct of her "higher education " are amonsf the most Interestlngr of his writings. 
In coming to England, Franklin brought with him his son William, who entered 
on the study of law. To his wife and daughter Franklin frequently sent pres- 
ents, and his letters to Mrs. Franklin give a pretty full account of all his doings 
while In England. During his visit he received the honorary degrees of D.C.L. 
from the University of Oxford, and LL.D. from that of Edinburgh. In August, 
1762, he started again for America, and reached Philadelphia on November 
I, after an absence of five years. His son William had shortly before been 
appointed Governor of New jersey. From this time William Franklin became 
very much the servant of the proprietaries and of the English government, but 
no offer of patronage produced any effect on the father. 



FOLLY OF THE STAMP ACT. 67 

Franklin's stay in America was of short duration. While there he was 
mainly instrumental in quelling an insurrection in Pennsylvania, and was en- 
gaged in long and tedious efforts to compose the incessant disputes between 
the Assembly and the proprietary governors. As soon as the Assembly was 
convened, it determined to send Franklin to England, to take charge of a peti- 
tion for a change of government. The merchants subscribed ^iioo toward 
his expenses in a few hours, and in twelve days he was on his journey, being 
accompanied to the ship by a cavalcade of three hundred of his friends. Arrived 
in London, he at once took up his old lodgings with Mrs. Stevenson. He was a 
master of satire, equaled only by Swift, and during the quarrels which preceded 
the War of Independence, as well as during the war, he made good use of his 
powers. 

One of Franklin's chief objects in coming to England was to prevent the 
passing of the Stamp Act. The colonists urged that they had always been 
liberal in their votes, whenever money was required by the Crown, and that 
Parliament had no right to tax America so long as the colonists were unrepre- 
sented in Parliament. " Had Mr. Grenville, instead of that act, applied to the 
King in Council for requisitional letters, 1 am sure he would have obtained more 
money from the colonies by their voluntary grants than he himself expected 
from the sale of stamps. But he chose compulsion rather than persuasion, and 
would not receive from their good-will what he thought he could obtain without 
it." The Stamp Act was passed, stamps were printed, distributors were ap- 
pointed, but the colonists would have nothing to do with the stamps. The 
distributors were compelled to resign their commissions, and the captains of 
vessels were forbidden to land the stamped paper. The cost of printing and 
distributing amounted to ^12,000; the whole return was about ^1500, and 
that mainly from Canada and the West Indies. 

In 1767 Franklin visited Paris. Though Parliament had repealed the Stamp 
Act, it nevertheless insisted on its right to tax the colonies. The Duty Act was 
scarcely less objectionable than its predecessors. On Franklin's return from 
the continent, he heard of the retaliatory measures of the Boston people, who 
had assembled in town-meetings, formally resolved to encourage home manu- 
factures, to abandon superfluities, and, after a certain time, to give up the use of 
some articles of foreign manufacture. 

A quantity of tea sent by the East India Company to Boston was destroyed 
by the people. The British Government then blockaded the port. This soon led 
to open hostilities. Franklin worked hard to effect a reconciliation. He drew 
up a scheme, setting forth the conditions under which he conceived a reconcilia- 
tion might be brought about, and discussed it fully with Mr. Daniel Barclay and 
Dr. Fothergill. This scheme was shown to Lord Howe, and afterward brought 
before the Ministry, but was rejected. All his negotiations were fruitless. At 
S 



68 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 

last he addressed a memorial to the Earl of Dartmouth, Secretary ol State, 
complaining of the blockade of Boston, which had then continued for nine 
months, and had " during every week of its continuance done damage to that 
town equal to what was suffered there by the India Company ;" and claiming 
reparation for such injury beyond the value of the tea which had been destroyed. 
This memorial was returned to Franklin by Mr. Walpole, and Franklin shortly 
afterward returned to Philadelphia. 

THE REVOLUTIONARY WAR. 

Before Franklin reached America, the War of Independence, though not 
formally declared, had fairly begun. He was appointed a member of the second 
Continental Congress, and one of a committee to confer with General Washing- 
ton respecting the Continental Army. On October 3, 1775, he wrote to 
Priestley : — 

" Tell our dear good friend. Dr. Price, who sometimes has his doubts and 
despondencies about our firmness, that America is determined and unanimous ; 
a very few Tories and placemen excepted, who will probably soon export 
themselves. Britain, at the expense of three millions, has killed a hundred and 
fifty Yankees this campaign, which is ^20,000 a head ; and at Bunker's Hill she 
gained a mile of ground, half of which she lost again by our taking the post on 
Ploughed Hill. During the same time sixty thousand children have been born 
in America. From these data his mathematical head will easily calculate the 
time and expense necessary to kill us all and conquer our whole territory." 

On the 4th of July Franklin took part in the signing of the Declaration of 
Independence. When the document was about to be signed, Mr. Hancock 
remarked, "We must be unanimous ; there must be no pulling different ways ; 
we must all hang together." Franklin replied, " Yes, we must indeed all hang 
together, or most assuredly we shall all hang separately." 

In the autumn of 1776 Franklin was unanimously chosen a Special Com- 
missioner to the French Court. He took with him his two grandsons, William 
Temple Franklin and Benjamin Franklin Bache, and leaving Marcus Hook on 
October 28th. crossed the Atlantic in a sloop of sixteen guns. In Paris he met 
with an enthusiastic reception. M. de Chaumont placed at his disposal his house 
at Passy, about a mile from Paris. Here he resided for nine years, being a con- 
stant visitor at the French Court, and certainly one of the most conspicuous ; 
figures in Paris. He was obliged to serve in many capacities, and was very much 
burdened with work. Not only wwe there his duties as Commissioner at the 
French Court, but he was also made Admiralty Judge and Financial Agent, 
so that all financial negotiations, either with the French Government or con- 
tractors, had to pass through his hands. Perhaps the most unpleasant part- 
of his work was his continued applications to the French Court for monetary 



AW FROM FRANCE. 



69 



advances. The French Government warmly espoused the cause of the Ameri- 
cans, and to the utmost of its abiUty assisted them with money, material, and 
men. 













^Sl^Kiy- 



REAR VIEW OF INDEPENDENCE HALL, PHILADELPHIA. 



At first the British Government, regarding the Americans as rebels, did not 

treat their prisoners as prisoners of w^ar, but threatened to Xxy them for high 

treason. Their sufferings in the English prisons were very great. Mr. David 

' Hartley did much to relieve them, and Franklin transmitted money for the pur- 



7P BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 

pose. When a treaty had been formed between France and the United States, 
and fortune began to turn in favor of tlie united armies, the American prisoners 
received better treatment from the English Government, and exchanges took 
place freely. 

In a letter to Mr. Hartley, Franklin showed something of the feelings of 
the Americans with respect to the English at that time : — 

" You may have heard that accounts upon oath have been taken in America, 
by order of Congress, of the British barbarities committed there. It is expected 
of me to make a school-book of them, and to have thirty-five prints designed 
here by good artists, and engraved, each expressing one or more of the horrid 
facts, in order to impress the minds of children and posterity with a deep sense 
of your bloody and insatiable malice and wickedness. Every kindness I hear 
of done by an Englishman to an American prisoner makes me resolve not to 
proceed in the work." 

Franklin always advocated freedom of commerce, even in time of war. He 
was of opinion that the merchant, the agriculturist, and the fisherman were bene- 
factors to mankind. He condemned privateering in every form, and endeav- 
ored to bring about an agreement between all the civilized powers against the 
fitting out of privateers. He held that no merchantman should be interfered with 
unless carrying war material. He greatly lamented the horrors of the war, but 
preferred anything to a dishonorable peace. To Priestley he wrote : — 

" Perhaps as you grow older you may . . . repent of having murdered in 
mephitic air so many honest, harmless mice, and wish that, to prevent mischief, 
you had used boys and girls instead of them. In what light we are viewed by 
superior beings may be gathered from a piece of late West India news, which 
possibly has not yet reached you. A young angel of distinction, being sent down 
to this world on some business for the first time, had an old courier-spirit assigned 
him as a guide. They arrived over the seas of Martinico, in the middle of the 
long day of obstinate fight between the fleets of Rodney and De Grasse. When, 
through the clouds of smoke, he saw the fire of the guns, the decks covered with 
mangled limbs and bodies dead or dying; the ships sinking, burning, or blown 
into the air ; and the quantity of pain, misery, and destruction the crews yet 
alive were thus with so much eagerness dealing round to one another, — he 
turned angrily to his guide, and said, ' You blundering blockhead, you are igno- 
rant of your business ; you undertook to conduct me to the earth, and you have 
brought me into hell !' ' No, sir,' says the guide, ' I have made no mistake ; this is 1 
really the earth, and these are men. Devils never treat one another in this cruel 
manner ; they have more sense and more of j\'hat men (vainly) call humanity.' " 

Franklin maintained that it would be far cheaper for a nation to extend its 
possessions by purchase from other nations than to pay the cost of war for the 
sake of conquest. 



V/EWS ON RELIGION. 71 

At last, after two years' negotiations, a definitive treaty of peace was 
signed between Great Britain and the United States, Franklin being one of the 
Commissioners for the latter, and Mr. Hartley for the former, and therewith 
terminated the seven years' War of Independence. Franklin celebrated the 
surrender of the armies of Burgoyne and Cornwallis by a medal, on which the 
infant Hercules appears strangling two serpents. 

RETURN TO AMERICA. 

On May 2, 1785, Franklin received from Congress permission to return to 
America. He was then in his eightieth year. On July 12th he left Passy for 
Havre, whence he crossed to Southampton, and there saw for the last time hii 
old friend, the Bishop of St. Asaph, and his family. He reached his home in 
Philadelphia early in September, and the day after his arrival he received a 
congratulatory address from the Assembly of Pennsylvania. In the following 
month he was elected President of the State, and was twice re-elected to the 
same office, it being contrary to the Constitution for any President to be elected 
for more than three years in succession. 

The following extract from a letter, written most probably to Thomas Paine, 
is worthy of the attention of some writers : — 

" I have read your manuscript with some attention. By the argument it 
contains against a particular Providence, though you allow a general Providence, 
you strike at the foundations of all religion. For without the belief of a Provi- 
dence that takes cognizance of guards and guides, and may favor particular 
persons, there is no motive to worship a Deity, to fear His displeasure, or to 
pray for His protection. I will not enter into any discussion of your principles, 
though you seem to desire it. But were you to succeed, do you imagine any 
good would be done by it? You yourself may find it easy to live a virtuous 
life without the assistance afforded by religion ; you having a clear perception 
of the advantages of virtue and the disadvantages of vice, and possessing 
strength of resolution sufficient to enable you to resist common temptations. 
But think how great a portion of mankind consists of weak and ignorant men 
and women, and of inexperienced, inconsiderate youth of both sexes, who have 
need of the motives of religion to restrain them from vice, to support their 
virtue, and retain them in the practice of it till it becomes habitual, which is the 
great point for its security. And perhaps you are indebted to her originally, 
that is, to your religious education, for the habits of virtue upon which you 
now justly value yourself You might easily display your excellent talents of 
reasoning upon a less hazardous subject, and thereby obtain a rank with our 
most distinguished authors. For among us it is not necessary, as among the 
Hottentots, that a youth, to be raised into the company of men, should prove 
his manhood by beating his mother. 



72 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 



" I would advise you, therefore, not to attempt unchaining the tiger, but to 
burn this piece before it is seen by any other person ; whereby you will save 

yourself a great deal of mortification by 
the enemies it may raise against you, 
and perhaps a good deal of regret and 
repentance. If men are so wicked tcvV^ 
religion, what would they be if without 
it ? I intend this letter itself as a proof 
of my friendship, and therefore add no 
professions to it ; but subscribe simply 
yours." 

During the last few years of his life 
Franklin suffered from a painful disease, 
which confined him to his bed and seri- 
ously interfered with his literary work, 
preventing him from completing his bio- 
graphy. During this time he was cared 
for by his daughter, Mrs. Bache, who 
resided in the same house with him. He 
died on April 1 7, 1 790, the immediate 
cause of death being an affection of 
the lungs. He was buried beside his wife in the cemetery of Christ Church, 
Philadelphia, the marble slab upon the grave bearing no other inscription than 
the name and date of death. In his early days (1728) he had written the fol- 
lowing epitaph for himself: — 

The Body 

OF 

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, 

Printer 
(like the cover of an old book, 
ITS contents torn out 

AND STRIPT of ITS LETTERING AND GILDING), 

LIES HERE, FOOD FOR WORMS. 

BUT THE WORK SHALL NOT HE LOST, 

FOR IT WILL (as HE BELIEVED) APPEAR ONCE MORE 

IN A NEW AND MORE ELEGANT EDITION, 

REVISED AND CORRECTED 

BY J 

THE AUTHOR, \ 




FRANKLIN'S GRAVE. 



JOHN ADAMS, 

THE REVOLUTIONARY PATRIOT AND STATESIVIAN. 




SEPTEMBER, 1774, there assembled in Philadelphia one 
of the greatest bodies of men which the world has ever 
seen. "For solidity of reason, force of sagacity, and wis- 
dom of conclusion," said the great Earl of Chatham, ''no 
body of men can take precedence of the Continental Con- 
gress." One of the foremost of that renowned Congress 
was the man whose name every schoolboy associates with 
American Independence, — the name of John Adams. " He 
was our Colossus," says his great colleague, Thomas Jef- 
ferson ; "the great pillar of support to the Declaration of 
Independence, and its ablest advocate and champion on 
the floor of the House, was John Adams. Not graceful, 
not always fluent, he yet came out with a power, both of thought and expres- 
sion, which moved us from our seats." 

The name of Adams is " with the country's woven " to a remarkable 
extent. The son of the first John Adams was John Ouincy Adams, also Presi- 
dent, and one of the purest and ablest men who ever sat in the executive chair. 
After him came his son, Charles Francis Adams, whose services as minister to 
England during the stormy days of our great civil war will not soon be forgot- 
ten. The interest which we naturally feel in this remarkable family is increased 
by the ample materials which they have given us to satisfy it. A fluent pen 
seems to belong in the Adams line. A tendency to keep records is a family 
trait. The Diary of John Quincy Adams, in twelve large volumes, edited by his 
son, is one of our best sources of the current history of his time ; and Charles 
Francis Adams has also edited the " Life and Works of John Adams," in ten 
volumes ; so that we not only have in this great line of statesmen a most 
interesting subject, but also the amplest materials for its study. 

John Adams was born in Braintree, Massachusetts, on the 30th of October, 
1735. His father was a farmer of moderate means, a worthy, industrious man, 
toiling early and late. He was anxious to give his son a collegiate education, 
hoping that he would become a minister. John entered Harvard College at the 

75 



76 JOHN ADAMS. 

age of sixteen. He had to struggle with small means. When he graduated at 
twenty years of age, he was considered as having received his full share of the 
small patrimony ; and, with his education as his only capital, he went out to take 
his place in the conflicts of the world. 

For two years John Adams lived in Worcester, then a town of but a few 
hundred inhabitants, teaching a public school and studying law. When but 
twenty-two years of age he returned to his native town of Braintree, and, open- 
ing a law office, devoted himself to study with renewed vigor. His native powers 
of mind and untiring devotion to his profession caused him to rise rapidly in 
public esteem. In October, 1764, he married Miss Abigail Smith, daughter of 
Rev. William Smith, pastor of the church in Weymouth. She was a lady of rare 
endowments of person and mind, and, by the force of her character, contributed 
not a little to her husband's celebrity. 

DIFFICULTIES WITH ENGLAND. 

When the memorable Stamp Act was issued, Adams entered with all the 
ardor of his soul into political life. He drew up a series of resolutions, remon- 
strating against the Act, which were adopted at a public meeting of citizens at 
Braintree, and which were subsequently adopted, word for word, by more than 
forty towns in the State. John Adams boldly took the ground that the Stamp 
Act was an assumption of arbitrary power, violating both the English Consti- 
tution and the charter of the province. It is said that this was the first direct 
denial of the unlimited right of Parliament over the colonies. 

To suppress the spirit of independence, daily becoming more manifest 
among the people, the British crown sent two regiments of soldiers to Boston. 
A more obno.xious menace could not have been devised. The populace insulted 
the soldiers ; the soldiers retaliated with insolence and threats. 

On the 5th of March, 1770, a small party of soldiers, thus assailed, fired 
upon the crowd in Boston, killing and wounding several. Mutual exasperation 
was now roused almost to frenzy. The captain and six soldiers were arrested 
and tried for murder. Very nobly, and with moral courage rarely equaled, 
John Adams and Josiah Ouincy undertook the task of their defense. They 
encountered unmeasured obloquy. They were stigmatized as deserters from 
the cause of popular liberty and the bribed advocates of tyranny. Captair 
Preston and the soldiers were acquitted, excepting two, who received a very 
slight punishment. Though Boston instituted an annual commemoration of the 
massacre, Mr. Adams' popularity suffered so little that he was elected by the 
citizens of Boston, to which place he had removed, as one of their representa- 
tives to the colonial Legislature. 

In 1773, in spite of the opposition of the colonists, several ships loaded 
with tea were sent from England to Boston. The patriots were firmly resolved 



THE "BOSTON TEA-PARTY." 



77 



that the tea should not be landed ; and a band of resolute men, meeting in 
secret, made arrangements to prevent it by force, if necessary. After exhaust- 
ing every lawful means, a party of men disguised as Indians boarded the 
vessels, broke open the chests, and emptied the contents into the harbor. It 
may be imagined that John Adams was not a mere passive spectator in the 
proceedings which thus led to the famous " Boston Tea-party." 

John Adams was one of the five delegates sent from Massachusetts to the 




OLD BUILDING IN BOSTON WHERE THE TEA-PLOT IS SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN HATCHED. 



j Continental Congress. He was entreated by a friend, the king's attorney-gen- 
|i eral, not to accept his appointment as a delegate to the Congress. " Great 
j Britain," said the Attorney General, "has determined on her system. Her 

power is irresistible, and will be destructive to you, and to all those who shall 

persevere in opposition to her designs." 

The heroic reply of John Adams was: "I know that Great Britain has 

determined on her system ; and that very determination determines me on 



78 JOHN ADAMS. 

mine. You know that I have been constant and uniform in my opposition to 
her measures. The die is now cast. I have passed the Rubicon. Sink or 
swim, hve or die, survive or perish with my country, is my fixed, unalterable 
determination." 

The battle of Bunker Hill was fought on the 17th of June, 1775. The 
next afternoon, which was Sunday, Mrs. Adams wrote to her husband : — 

" The day, perhaps the decisive day, is come, on which the fate of America 
depends. My bursting heart must find vent at my pen. I have just heard 
that our dear friend Dr. Warren is no more. Charlestown is laid in ashes. The 
battle began upon our intrenchments upon Bunker's Hill, Saturday morning, 
about three o'clock, and lias not ceased yet ; and it is now three o'clock, Sab- 
bath afternoon. The constant roar of the cannon is so distressing that we can- 
not either eat, drink, or sleep." 

These scenes had aroused the country around Boston to the very highest 
pitch of excitement. The farmers had come rushing in from all the adjoining 
towns with rifles, shot-guns, pitchforks, and any other weapons they could 
grasp. Thus a motley mass of heroic men, without efficient arms, supplies, 
powder, or discipline, amounting to some fourteen thousand, were surrounding 
Boston,, which was held by about eight thousand British regulars, supported by 
a powerful fleet. 

Washington hastened to Massachusetts to take command of the army. 
Five days after his appointment Thomas Jefferson made his appearance upon 
the floor of Congress. A strong friendship immediately sprang up between 
Adams and Jefferson, which, with a short interruption, continued for the 
remainder of their lives. After a brief adjournment. Congress met again in 
September. The battle was still raging about Boston ; and the British, with 
free ingress and egress by their fleet, were plundering and burning and commit- 
ting every kind of atrocity in all directions. John Adams presented and car- 
ried the decisive resolution, that, in view of the aafO^ressions and demands of 
England, "it is necessary that the exercise of every kind of authority under 
said crown should be totally suppressed." On the 7th of June, 1776, Richard 
Henry Lee, of Virginia, offered the memorable resolution, which John Adams 
seconded, — 

" That these United -States are, and of right ought to be, free and inde- 
pendent." , 

A committee was then appointed to draught a Declaration of Independ- 
ence. It consisted of Jefferson, Adams, Franklin, Sherman, and Livingston. , 
Jefferson and Adams were appointed, by the rest, a sub-committee to draw up 
the Declaration. At Mr. Adams' earnest request Mr. Jefferson prepared that 
immortal document, which embodies the fundamental principles of all human 
rights. At this time Mr. Adams wrote to a friend : — 



THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCK 79 

••I am engaged in constant business, — from seven to ten in the morning in 
committee, from ten to five in Congress, and from six to ten again in committee. 
Our assembly is scarcely numerous enough for the business. Everybody is 
engaged all day in Congress, and all the morning and evening in committees." 

On the 4th of July, 1776, the Declaration of Independence was adopted by 
Congress, and signed by each member. This was one of the boldest acts in 
the records of time. Every man who affixed his signature to that paper thus 
cast the glove of mortal defiance at the foot of the greatest power on this 
globe. The scene was one upon which the genius of both pen and pencil has 
been lavished. In its grandeur it stands forth as one of the most sublime of 

o 

earthly acts. Of the fifty-five who signed that Declaration, there was not prob- 
ably one who would deny that its most earnest advocate, and its most eloquent 
defender, was John Adams. 

The day after this momentous event, Mr. Adams wrote to his wife as 
follows : — 

" Yesterday the greatest question was decided that was ever debated in 
America ; and greater, perhaps, never was or will be decided among men. A 
resolution was passed, without one dissenting colony, 'That these United States 
are, and of right ought to be, free and independent States.' The day is passed. 
The 4th of July, 1776, will be a memorable epoch in the history of America, 
I am apt to believe it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great 
anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated, as the day of deliverance, 
by solemn acts of devotion to Almighty God. It ought to be solemnized with 
pomps, shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one 
end of the continent to the other, from this time forward forever. You will 
think me transported with enthusiasm ; but I am not. I am well aware of the toil 
and blood and treasure that it will cost to maintain this Declaration, and sup- 
port and defend these States ; yet, through all the gloom, I can see that the end 
is worth more than all the means, and that posterity will triumph, though you 
and I may rue, which I hope we shall not." 

Until November, 1776, Mr. Adams was assiduous in his attendance upon 
Congress, devoting himself with tireless diligence to his public duties. In 1777 
he was appointed a delegate to France, to cooperate with Benjamin Franklin 
and Arthur Lee, who were then in Paris, in the endeavor to obtain assistance in 
arms and money from the French government. This was a severe trial to his 
patriotism, as it separated him from his home, compelled him to cross the ocean 
in winter, and exposed him to imminent peril of capture by the British cruisers. 
Capture would lodge him in Newgate. He would be tried in England for 
treason, and Mr. Adams had no doubt that they would proceed to execute him. 
But, on the other hand, our country was in extremest peril. It was clear that, 
without the aid of some friendly European power, our feeble armies must be 



8o 



JOHN ADAMS. 
As was to be expected of the man, he resolved to run all the 






crushed, 
risks. 

It was several months before a frigate could be got ready. On a cold day 
in February, 177S, a wintry wind roughening Massachusetts Bay, Mr. Adams 
took a sad leave of his wife and three children, and accompanied by his son, 



John Quincy, then but 
frigate Boston, riding 
The voyage was 
five days out, on the 
were seen, probably 
Two of them were 
sailer, continued the 
clouds hastened the 



ten years of age, was rowed out to the 
at anchor at some distance from the shore, 
stormy, uncomfortable, and eventful. When 
15th of February, three large English frigates 
cruising for the Boston. They gave chase, 
soon run out of sight. The third, a better 
pursuit. The wind rose to a gale. The 
approach of the darkness of the night, in 

which the ships lost 
^^'^^^ sight of each other ; 

and when the morn- 
ing dawned the 
British frigate was 
nowhere to be seen. 
On the 14th of 
March another sail 
hove in sight. Trust- 
ing that it might 
prove a prize which 
they would be able 
to take, they gave 
chase, and it was 
soon overtaken nd 
captured. Captain 
Tucker beg-ofed Mr. 
Adams to retire to 
a place of safety be- 
low. Soon after, as 
the balls of the hos- 
tile ship were flying 
over their heads, 
Captain Tucker saw Mr. Adams on deck with a musket in his hand, fighting as 
a common marine. In the excitement of the moment he rushed up to his 
illustrious passenger, exclaiming, " Why are you here, sir? lam commanded 
to carry you safely to Europe, and I will do it ; " and, seizing him in his arms, 
he forcibly carried him from the scene of danger. 




THE MONUMENT ON BUNKER HILL. 



EXPERIENCE IN EUROPE. 8i 

On the morning of March 30th they made Bordeaux light-house, and ran 
safely into the river. There was a French ship in the stream, and Mr. Adams 
and his son were invited to a very elegant entertainment, served up in style to 
which they had been quite unaccustomed in their frugal provincial home. They 
there learned that Dr. Franklin, who had been received by Louis XVI. with 
great pomp, and who, from his courtesy of manners, affability, and aptness in 
paying compliments, was admirably adapted to impress the French mind, had 
already succeeded in concluding a treaty with France. 

MR. ADAMS' BLUNT MANNERS. 

Indeed, it is probably fortunate that Mr. Adams did not arrive any sooner. 
He was not at all at home in French diplomacy. While Franklin was greatly 
admired and caressed, Mr. Adams was decidedly unpopular in the Parisian 
court. His virtues and his defects were those of a blunt, straightforward, un- 
polished Englishman. In Paris he met with David Hartley, a member of the 
British House of Commons. They came together like two icebergs. Mr. 
Hartley, on his return to London, said to Sir John Temple and others : " Your 
Mr. Adams, that you represent as a man of such good sense — he may have 
that ; but he is the most ungracious man I ever saw." 

Mr. Adams' first interview with the President of the Parliament of Bor- 
deaux was alike characteristic of the affable Frenchman and the bluff Yankee. 
The premier received him not only respectfully and politely, but with affection 
which was even tender. 

"I am charmed," said he, " to see you. I have long felt for you a brother's 
love. I have trembled for you in the great perils through which you have 
passed. You have encountered many dangers and sufferings in the cause of 
liberty, and I have sympathized with you in them all, for I have suffered in that 
cause myself" 

We learn how Mr. Adams received these cordial advances by the following 
ungracious entry in his journal : — 

" Mr. Bondfield had to interpret all this effusion of compliments. I thought 
it never would come to an end ; but it did ; and I concluded, upon the whole, 
there was a form of sincerity in it, decorated, and almost suffocated, with French 
compliments." 

In a sketch of his colleaorues, Mr. Adams writes of Dr. Franklin : — 

o 

" That he was a great genius, a great wit, a great humorist, a great satirist, 
a great politician, is certain. That he was a great philosopher, a great moralist, 
a great statesman, is more questionable." On the other hand, Dr. Franklin 
writes of his colleague : " Mr. Adams is always an honest man, often a wise 
'One ; but he is sometimes completely out of his senses." 

Mr. Adams' earnest patriotism induced him to practice the most rigid 



82 JOHN ADAMS. 

economy while abroad, that Congress might be put to as little expense as pos- 
sible. The treaty of alliance with France was already formed before his arrival, 
and, soon finding that there was but little for him to do in Paris, he resolved 
that he had rather run the gauntlet through all the British men-of-war, and all 
the storms of the ocean on a return, than remain where he was. 

On the 17th of June, 1779, he embarked on board the French frigate 
"Sensible," and arrived safely in Boston with his son on the 2d of August, after 
an absence of seventeen months. 

In September Mr. Adams was chosen again to go to Paris, there to hold 
himself in readiness to negotiate a treaty of peace and of commerce with Great 
Britain so soon as the British cabinet might be found willing to listen to such 
proposals. The Chevalier de la Luzerne, the F'rench Minister, who had accom- 
panied Mr. Adams to America, wrote him a very polite note, congratulating 
him upon his appointment, and offering him a passage in the return French 
frigate. M. Marbois had been so much impressed with the distinguished talents 
of Mr. Adams' son, John Ouincy, that he sent his father a special injunction to 
carry him back, that he might profit by the advantages of a European education. 

On the 13th of November, 1779, Mr. Adams was again on board the 
"Sensible," outward bound, and reached Paris on the 5th of February, 1780. 
He was to remain in the French capital until an opportunity should present 
itself to open negotiations with Great Britain. The Count de Vergennes 
assumed that France, our powerful ally, should be specially consulted upon any 
terms which were to be presented to the British cabinet ; and that it would be 
manifestly unjust for the United States to negotiate a separate peace with Great 
Britain without the approval of the French nation. On the other hand, Mr. 
Adams assumed that the United States had not placed their destinies in the 
hands of France, so as to lose all independent power. He acted upon the 
principle that sympathy with Americans, as victims of oppression, had no influ- 
ence whatever with France ; that the French Government, in its alliance, was 
influenced by pure and undiluted selfishness. Dr. P>anklin did not sympathize 
in these views, and did not give Mr. Adams his support. Much annoyed, Mr. 
Adams at length decided to go to Holland. In taking his departure, he wrote 
a letter to the Count de Vergennes, which did but increase the alienation. The 
Count was so indignant that he sent to the Congress at Philadelphia, soliciting 
the recall of the commissions which had been intrusted to Mr. Adams. 

Mr. Adams ever regarded, and justly, his mission to Holland as the great- 
est success of his life. On the very day that he was received by the States- 
General he proposed a treaty of amity and commerce ; and on the 7th of Octo- 
ber, 1782, had the pleasure of announcing the second alliance entered into by 
the United States as a sovereign power. The glory of this great event belongs 
undeniably to John Adams. It was deemed so important that two medals were 



i 



ILLNESS IN FRANCE. 83 

engraved in Holland in its commemoration. " Monsieur," said a French gentle- 
man to Mr. Adams on his return to Paris, " you are the Washington of negotia- 
tion." Mr. Adams was highly gratified by the compliments which were lavished 
upon him ; but he intimates that Dr. Franklin would die of jealousy should he 
hear them. 

After a vast amount of diplomatic maneuvering, a definite treaty of peace 
with England was signed at Paris on the 21st of January, 1783. The reaction 
from the excitement, toil, and anxiety through which Mr. Adams had passed 
threw him into a fever. He occupied the Hotel du Roi, in the Place du Car- 
rousel. It was a thoroughfare over whose pavements a constant stream of 
carriages was rolling, with a noise like thunder, inces5antly for twenty-one hours 
out of the twenty-four. Burning with fever, he found sleep impossible. His 
friends despaired of his recovery. 

As soon as Mr. Adams could be removed he was taken to Auteuil, where 
he enjoyed the pure air and silence of the country. But recovery was very 
slow. Feeble, emaciated, languid, his friends advised him to eo to England to 
drink the waters of Bath. On Monday, the 20th of October, he set out, with 
his son and one servant, for London. While Mr. Adams was in England, still 
drooping and desponding, he received dispatches urging the indispensable ne- 
cessity of his repairing immediately to Amsterdam to negotiate another loan. 

"It was winter," writes Mr. Adams. " My health was very delicate. A 
journey to Holland, at that season, would very probably put an end to my 
labors. I scarcely saw a possibility of surviving it. Nevertheless, no man 
knows what he can bear till he tries. A few moments' reflection determined 
me. 
i While in England Mr. Adams had enjoyed the intense gratification of hear- 

ing George III., from his throne, announce to Parliament that he had concluded 
a treaty of peace, in which he recognized the independence of the United States. 
While in Holland Frederick II. of Prussia made overtures to Mr. Adams for a 
' treaty of commerce. At the same time Mr. Adams received a new commission, 
! authorizing him to act with Franklin and Jefferson to negotiate treaties of com- 
] merce with any of the foreign powers. As it was evident that his residence 
abroad was to be extended, he wrote to Mrs. Adams to join him with their 
family. The happy reunion took place in the summer of 1784; and they 
jl selected for their residence a quiet retreat at Auteuil, near Paris. And now 
I came probably the happiest period of Mr. Adams' life. His wife, his eldest 
! son, John Ouincy, then rising into a youth of great promise, and his daughter, 
whose beauty and accomplishments made her justly the pride of both father and 
mother, were with him. 

On the 24th of February, 1785, peace with England having been pro- 
claimed. Congress appointed Mr. Adams envoy to the Court of St. James, 



84 JOHN ADAMS. 



\ 



He crossed the Channel to assume these new, arduous, and delicate responsi- 
bilities. He was now to meet, face to face, the King of England, who had so 
long regarded him as a traitor, and against whose despotic power he had assisted 
the nation so successfully to contend. Mr. Adams, in his despatch to Mr. Jay, 
has left an interesting account of his first public reception. 

He rode to court, by invitation of Lord Carmarthen, in his coach. In the 
ante-chamber he found the room full of ministers of state, generals, bishops, 
and all sorts of courtiers, each waiting his turn for an audience. He was soon 
conducted into the king's closet, where he was left alone with the king and his 
secretary of state. Mr. Adams, according to the court etiquette, upon which he 
had carefully informed himself made three low bows, — one at the door, another 
when he made a couple of steps, and the third when he stood before the king. 
He then, in a voice tremulous with the emotion which the scene was calculated 
to inspire, addressed his Majesty in the following words : — 

"Sire, the United States of America have appointed me their minister 
plenipotentiary to your Majesty, and have directed me to deliver to your Majesty 
this letter, which contains the evidence of it. It is in obedience to their e.xpress 
commands that I have the honor to assure your Majesty of their unanimous 
disposition and desire to cultivate the most friendly and liberal intercourse 
between your Majesty's subjects and their citizens, and of their best wishes for 
your Majesty's health and for that of the royal family. 

"The appointment of a minister from the United States to your Majesty's 
court will form an epoch in the history of England and America. I think 
myself more fortunate than all my fellow-citizens in having the distinguished 
honor to be the first to stand in your Majesty's royal presence in a diplomatic 
character ; and I shall esteem myself the happiest of men if I can be instru- j 
mental in recommending my country more and more to your Majesty's royal 
benevolence, and of restoring the entire esteem, confidence, and affection, or, in 
better words, the old good-nature and the old harmony between people who, 
though separated by an ocean and under different governments, have the same 
language, a similar religion, and kindred blood. I beg your Majesty's permis- 
sion to add, that although I have sometimes before been intrusted by my coun- . 
try, it was never, in my whole life, in a manner so agreeable to myself" 

The king listened to this address in evident emotion. He seemed not a 
little agitated ; for to him it was an hour of deep humiliation. With a voice 
even more tremulous than that with which Mr. Adams had spoken, he replied : — 

"Sir, the circumstances of this audience are so extraordinary, the language 
you have now held is so extremely proper, and the feelings you have discovered 
so justly adapted to the occasion, that I must say that I not only receive with 
pleasure the assurance of the friendly disposition of the people of the United 
States, but that I am very glad that the choice has fallen upon you as their 






INTERVIEW WITH THE KING. 



«S 




minister. But I wish you, sir, to believe, and that it may be understood in 
! America, that I have done 
i nothing in the late contest '^'^ 

[but what I thought myself 
indispensably bound to do 
by the duty which I owed to 
my people. I will be frank 
with you. I was the la.st to 
iconfonn to the separation ; 
but the separation having 




been made, and hav- 
ing become inevita- 
ble, I have always 
said, as I say now, 
that I would be the 
first to meet the 
friendship of the 
United States as an independ- 
ent power. The moment I 
see such sentiments and lan- 
guage as yours prevail, and a 
disposition to give this country 
the preference, that moment 
I shall say, Let the circum- 
stances of language, religion, 
and blood have their full 
effect." 

As Great Britain did not condescend to appoint a minister to the United 
States, and as Mr. Adams felt that he was accomplishing but little, he solicited 



THE ATTACK ON RIOTERS AT SPRINGFIELD, M.»SS., IN I786. 



^ JOHN ADAMS. 

permission .0 return .o his own country, and -ched his rural home in Brain. 
Le, from which he had so long '^-'^fX-'^I^V^rbl covertly in favor of 
When some P?-""; --;^^^^,„'*^'_' ,7 ■Gentlemen, you'do not know 
rar:t'^^r 1 To. on'ttrthTlore perfectly honest man than John 
AdlnTs It , not in his nature to meditate anything which he would not pnbl.sl 
«r world I know him well : and I repeat, that a more Itonest man never 

'""tn .T/Sdettt 1« a''p;rted by the various States of the Confederacy 
tofo mac'onitutn for the' United States of America. They me. m .nde- 
oendence Hall, in Philadelphia, where the great Declaration had been s.gned. 
fhe Cons." »" -vhich they drew up was accepted W the State, and we becam 
a nation. George Washington was unanunously chosen President for lour 
years, and John Adams Vice-President. 

THE FIRST VICE-PRESIDENT. 

Durin. the first Presidency, Congress was tossed by angry passions and 
stormy debates. Both Washington and Adams were assaded w>th mtenses 
b tterness Both were accused of monarchical tendencies, and of fondness for 
the pomp and pageantry of royalty. The democratic party was -w rap.dly 
rising into controlling power. Still both Washington and Adams were reelected, 
and aaain, on the 4th of March, 1 793- took the oaths of office. y 

lust about this time the French Revolution shook the contment of Europe^ 
Mr Adams felt no sympathy with the French people in this struggle ; for he had 
no confidence in their power of self-government, and utterly abhorred the athe- 
istic character of those philosophers, who, in his judgment, maugurated the 
movement. On the other hand, Jefferson's sympathies were strongly enlisted 
in behalf of the French people, struggling to throw off the yoke of mtolerable 
despotism. Hence originated the alienation between these two distinguished 
men Washington at first hailed the French Revolution with hope ; but as its 
disorders became more developed he leaned more strongly to the views of Mr. 
Adams Two very powerful parties were thus soon organized. Adams was at 
the head of the one whose sympathies were with England. Jefferson led the ,, 

other, in svmpathy with France. , , , 

En<dand proclaimed war against the French republicans ; played the tyrant 
over weaker nations upon the ocean ; and, despising our feeble navy, insulted 
and harassed our commerce. This conduct swept the current of popular feeling 
increasingly toward Mr. Jefferson and his party. Upon the retirement of. 
Washintrton, at the close of his second Presidential term, there was a very hotly 
contested election ; and Mr. Adams, by a slender majority, was chosen President, 
and Thomas Jefferson, Vice-President. 



RETURN TO PRIVATE LIFE. 8^ 

Those were stormy days, and it required great wisdom safely to navigate 
the ship of state. The excitement which the French Revolution created in this 
country, as the community ranged themselves on the side of En^rland or of 
France, was intense. For four years Mr. Adams struggled throujh almost a 
constant tempest of assaults. He was never a popular man. The party arrayed 
against him, with the Vice-President at its head, was powerful in numbers, and 
still more powerful in ability. He was not a man of conciliatory manners or of 
wmning speech. After four years of harassment, which must have been the four 
least happy years of his life, he was mortified by losing a reelection. Jefferson 
was chosen President ; and Aaron Burr, Vice-President ; and John Adams was 
eft to return to his farm at Ouincy. His chagrin was so great as to lead him 
to the lamentable mistake of refusing to remain in Philadelphia to witness the 
inauguration of his successful rival. There ensued a breach in the friendship of 
these illustrious men which was not closed for thirteen years 
_ About the time of Mr. Adams' retirement, his eldest son, who was mar- 
ried and setded in New York, suddenly died, leaving to his father's care a wife 
and two infant children He then spoke of this event as the deepest affliction 
of his life. He was then sixty-six years of age. A quarter of a century still 
remained to him before he died. He generally avoided all public gathering 
and took httle part in political questions, devoting his time mainly to the culti^ 
vation of his farm. When England, looking contemptuously upon our feeb 1 
navy persisted in the outrage of searching American ships, both John Adams 
and his son, John Qu.ncy, nobly supported the policy of Mr. Jefferson in resenting 
these outrages. It seems strange that a man could be found in America willing 
to submit to such insolence. But for this Mr. Adams was bitteriy accused of 
being recreant to his principles, and of joining the party who were charged 
with seeking an excuse for dragging our country into a war against Enalalfd 
hat we might thus aid France. On this occasion John Adams, for the f^r^ 
.me since his retirement, broke silence, and drew up a very able paper exposing 

a^tv Se t F ""' T""f"^- ^^- ^'^^^ h^^ b-" aLda'ted' -Z 
.party hostile to France, and m favor of submission to the British pretensions 
In advocating resistance, he was regarded as abandoning his old friends and 
with bitter animosity was he assailed. menas, and 

I MR. ADAMs' HOME LIFE. 

h=H l" "!,"*' ■t'u" ^l '^''^™' ""' eighty-two years of age. his noble wife who 
had shared w,th h.m the joys and griefs of more than half a century, died at Ae 

' fsaptred"""A "■ 1^' ="'r *• =" °"" ■'■" ^ '''^^'^ of -dnesTwhlch ne e 
disappeared A gentleman who v.sited Ouincy a year or two before her death 

ipve a descnptton of the interview. Mr Adams was. in body, very ifim tot 
tenngand shaking withage; but his mind seemed as vlgorousf and his heT« as 



88 



JOHN ADAMS. 



young, as ever. There was a boy's joyousness and elasticity in his hearty laugh. 
He joked, was full of fun, and talked about everybody and ever>-thing with the 
utmost freedom and abandon. His knowledge seemed to his visitor bound- 
less ; for he was equally at home upon whatever subject might be introduced. 
Nothing could be more entertaining than his conversation, it was so replete with 
anecdote and lively sallies of wit. 

While thus conversing, Mrs. Adams came in, — a tall and stately lady of 
rather formal address. " A cap of exquisite lace surrounded features still ex- 
hibiting intellect and energy. Her dress was snowy white, and there was that 

immaculate neatness in her appear- 
ance which gives to age almost the 
sweetness of youth. With less warmth 
of manner and sociableness than Mr. 
Adams, she was sufficiently gracious, 
and her occasional remarks betrayed 
intellectual vitjor and strongf sense. 
The guest went away, feeling that he 
should never again behold such living 
specimens of the 'great old.' " 

While his drooping frame and 
feeble step and dimmed eye showed 
the ravages of years, Mr. Adams' mind 
retained its wonted vigor. He read 
until his vision failed, and was then 
read to, many hours every day. He 
loved, in conversation with his friends, 
to recall the scenes of his younger 
years, and to fight his battles over 
again. His son, John Ouincy, rose to 
distinction, and occupied high posts 
of honor at home and abroad. In 
1825 his parental pride was gratified by the elevation of his son to the chair 
which the father had honored as President of the United States. When John 
Quincy Adams received a note from Rufus King, informing him of his election, 
he inclosed it to his father, with the following lines from his own pen, under 
date of February 9, 1825 : — 

My dear and honored Father : — The inclosed note from Mr. King w^ill 
inform you of the event of this day ; upon which I can only offer you my con- 
gratulations, and ask your blessing and prayers. 

Your affectionate and dutiful son, 

John Quincy Adams. 




OLD SOUTH CHURCH, BOSTON. 



DEATH OF ADAMS AND JEFFERSOK 89 

John Adams was now ninety years of age. His enfeebled powers indicated 
that his end was drawing nigh. The 4th of July, 1826, came. The nation had 
made arrangements for a more than usually brilliant celebration of that anni- 
versary. Adams and Jefferson still lived. It was hoped that they might be 
brought together, at some favored spot, as the nation's guests. But, as the 
time drew near, it was evident that neither of them could bear a journey. On 
Friday morning, the 30th of June, a gentleman called upon Mr. Adams to obtain 
a toast to be presented on the 4th of July at the celebration at Ouincy. "I 
give you," said he, ''Independence forever!' 

He was now rapidly declining. On the morning of the 4th his physician 
judged that he would scarcely survive the day. There was the ringing of bells, 
the exultant music of martial bands, the thunders of artillery from ships and forts, 
from hills and valleys, echoing all over our land, as rejoicing millions welcomed 
the natal day of the nation. Mr. Adams, upon his dying couch, listened to these 
sounds of joy with silent emotion. " Do you know what day it is ?" some one 
inquired. "Oh, yes!" he replied: "it is the glorious 4th of July. God bless 
it ! God bless you all ! It is a great and glorious day." "Thomas Jefferson," 
he murmured at a later hour to himself, " still survives." These were his last 
words. But he was mistaken. An hour or two before, the spirit of Jefferson 
had taken its flight. The sands of his own long and memorable life were now 
run out, and gently he passed away into that sleep from which there is no 
earthly waking. 




VIEW OF THE CAPITOL, WASHINGTON, 



JOHN JAY, 



FIRST CHIEK JUSTICE OK THE UNITED STATES 

SUPREIVLE COURT. 




HEN, in 1685, Louis XIV. of France revoked the 
Edict of Nantes, that famous act of toleration 
under which French Protestants had for so long 
lived and flourished, his bigotry set in motion 
forces whose efforts reached every nation of the 
earth, and turned the current of history for 
centuries after. Among the multitudes of indus- 
trious and ingenious men who were then driven 
from France to other lands was one Pierre Jay, a 
merchant of La Rochelle, who fled to England to 
escape persecution. His son, a West India 
merchant, came to New York, and married the 
daughter of one of the early Dutch settlers ; and 
thus their distinguished son, John Jay, one of the founders 
of our government, and its first chief justice, was remarkable among early 
American statesmen as having not a drop of English blood in his veins. 

There is little in the history of Jay that is picturesque or striking ; but 
there are few among the worthies of the Revolution to whom posterity owes a 
greater debt. "Life," says the poet Lowell, — 

"may be given in many ways, 
And loyalty to truth be sealed 
As bravely in the closet as the field." 

That Jay had the true heroic spirit is shown by an episode of his life in college. 
A number of his fellow-students, in some rough play in the college hall, which 
he saw but had no part in, broke a table. The noise reached the ears of the 
president, who suddenly appeared, but not in time to discover them in the act. 
All those present, except Jay and one other student, flatly denied that they broke 
the table, or knew who did. Jay and his comrade admitted that they knew who 
did it, but refused to tell their names. Jay maintaining that there was nothing 

93 



94 JOHN JAY. i 

in the laws of the college requiring him to play the part of an informer. This j 
manly conduct, however, was deemed by the authorities a grave offense, and ' 
Jay and his companion were suspended. 

Upon his graduation from college Jay entered on the study of the law, and \ 
was admitted to the New York bar in 1768. He is said to have " combined in 
a remarkable degree the dignity and gravity of manhood with the ardor of 
youth." He soon acquired a large practice, and great influence in political 
affairs. As a member of the Continental Congress, in 1774, he drew up the 
famous Address to the People of Great Britain, which at once gave him the 
reputation of being one of the ablest and most eloquent writers in America. 
"Are not the proprietors of the soil of Great Britain," he says, "lords of their 
own property ? Can it be taken from them without their own consent ? . . . 
Why, then, are the proprietors of the soil of America less lords of their prop- 
erty than you are of yours ? or why should they submit it to the disposal of 
your Parliament, or any other parliament or council in the world not of their 
own election ? . . . Such declarations we consider as heresies in English poli- 
tics, and can no more operate to deprive us of our property than the interdicts 
of the Pope can divest kings of scepters which the laws of the land and the 
voice ot the people have placed in their hands." 

Referring to the ability and character of the men who formed the famous 
Continental Congress, Lord Chatham said : " When your lordships look at the 
papers transmitted to us from America, when you consider their decency, firm- 
ness, and wisdom, you cannot but respect their cause, and wish to make it your 
own. For myself I must declare and avow that, . . . for solidity of reasoning, 
force of sagacity, and wisdom of conclusion, ... no nation or body of men 
can stand in preference to the General Congress at Philadelphia." 

jay's trials in SPAIN. 

In 177S Jay was chosen President of Congress, and fulfilled the dlfificult 
duties of that station for nearly two years, when he was sent as minister to 
Spain to negotiate for a loan of $5,000,000, and for the free navigation of the 
Mississippi. "While I am sensible," wrote another delegate to Jay, " of the 
advantages we shall reap from your eminent services there, I have my fears 
that they will be missed importantly where you now are." The trials and 
vexations of his new position were very great. "The Spaniards will not easily 
give their dollars," truly wrote Lafayette to Washington ; and, far from giving 
up to .America the navigation of the Mississippi, they wished to obtain sole con- 
trol of it themselves. "Poor as we are," wrote Franklin to Jay, "as I know 
we shall be rich, I would rather agree with them to buy, at a great price, the 
whole of their right on the Mississippi than to sell a drop of its waters. A 
neighbor might as well ask me to sell my street door," 



ii 



TREATY OF PEACE WITH ENGLAND. 



95 



Jay wasted many months of fruitless and vexatious labor in Spain, Con- 
gress in the meantime not only failing to provide him with any means of sup- 
port, but expecting him to beg or borrow from Spain hundred^ of thousands of 
dollars to pay bills of exchange which they drew upon him. When in the 
greatest extremity, Franklin, whose influence at the French court was very 
great, sent Jay $25,000 to aid in meeting these bills. "If you find any inclina- 
tion to hug me for the good news of this letter," wrote Franklin, "I constitute 






BANKS OF THE MISSISSIPPI TO-DAY, FOR WHOSE FREE NAVIGATION JAY NEGOTIATED. 

and appoint Mrs. Jay my attorney, to receive in my behalf your embraces." 
Soon afterward Jay left Spain, and took a most important part in negotiating a 
treaty of peace with England, at Paris, in 1783, — a treaty so advantageous to 
America that the French Prime Minister remarked that "England had bought a 
peace, rather than made one." On his return to America Jay was made SecrC' 
tary of State for Foreign Affairs, and filled that office until 1789. 

In 1787 met that renowned body of statesmen, the Constitutional Conven- 



96 JOHN JAY. 

tion of 17S7. which, "in order to form a more perfect union," drafted the pres 
ent Constitution of the United States. In the labors of this convention 
probably no member bore a more important part than Jay. When the work 
of the convention was at last complete, and submitted to the people, there was 
violent opposition to it, especially in Jay's own State — New York. In this state 
of the public mind that trio of great men, Madison, Jay, and Hamilton, undertook 
to explain and vindicate the proposed instrument in Tlie Federalist, a series of 
articles, originally published in the New York papers. "No constitution," 
says Chancellor Kent, " ever received a more masterly and successful vindica- 
tion." The opposition to its adoption was finally removed ; it was ratified by 
the States, and went into effect with the election of Washington as first Presi- 
dent, in 1789. 

Washington manifested his opinion of Jay's character and abilities by 
giving him a choice of the offices under the new government. He preferred the 
chief-justiceship, as being most suited to his turn of mind and his training. In 
an address at one of the first sessions he said ; " Nothing but a strong govern- 
ment of laws, irresistibly bearing down arbitrary power and licentiousness, can 
defend it against those two formidable enemies. Let it be remembered that 
civil liberty consists, not in a right to every man to do just as he pleases, but in 
an equal right to all citizens to have, enjoy, and do, in peace, security, and with- 
out molestation, whatever the equal and constitutional laws of the country 
admit to be consistent with the public good." 

STRONG LANGUAGE ABOUT SLAVERY. 

Of all the statesmen of the Revolution, Jay was one of the most pro- 
nounced and uncompromising opponents of slavery. The inconsistency of 
demanding freedom for ourselves, while holding others in bondage, was one 
which his strong, logical mind could not tolerate, and which he did not attempt 
to reconcile. In 1 780, writing from Spain to a friend in America, he says : "An 
excellent law might be made out of the Pennsylvania one for the gradual abo- 
lition of slavery. Till America comes into this measure, her prayers to Heaven 
for liberty will be impious. ... I believe God governs the world, and I 
believe it to be a maxim in his, as in our court, that those who ask for equity, 
ought to do it." Again he says : " It is much to be wished that slavery may be 
abolished. ... To contend for our own liberty, and to deny that blessing to 
others, involves an inconsistency not to be excused." 

Jay continued on the bench of the Supreme Court until 1794, when his 
services were required as special minister to England, to adjust the differences 
between the two countries, which were so great as to threaten war. His abili- 
ties as a diplomatist were shown by the treaty which he negotiated, under which 
England paid over ten millions of dollars for illegal captures of American pro- 



GOVERNOR OF NEW YORK. 



97 



perty in the war for independence, and of which Lord Sheffield afterward said, 
at the breaking out of the war of 1812, "We have now an opportunity of 
getting rid of that most impoHtic treaty of 1 794, when Lord Grenville was so 




ST. PAUL'S, NEW YORK, AN OLD CHURCH OF JAV's TIME. 



■perfectly duped by Jay." While Jay was yet in England he was elected 
Governor of New York, and was twice re-elected. He, however, declined 
serving a third term ; and also declined a second term as chief justice, to which 



98 



JOHN JAY. 



he had been nominated and confirmed in 1801. At the end of his second 
term as Governor of New York he retired from public life, and spent the 
remainder of his days on his estate in Westchester county, New York, where 
he died in 1829. 

The character of Jay is clearly shown forth in the record of his life. In 
devotion to his country, in clear judgment, in spotless integrity, he is not sur- 
passed even among the great men of his own time. He was modest, claimed 
no merit, and seldom alluded to the great events in which he took part. He 
was generous and charitable, while at the same time e.xact and careful. It has 
been beautifully said of him that " He lives in our memories a flawless statue, 
whose noble lineaments have everything to gain from the clear light of history." 




AN EIGHTEENTH CENTURY FIREPLACE. 



ALEXANDER HAMILTON, 

THE ARCHITECT OR THE FEDERAL SYSTEM. 




'MONG all the monuments in the great Cathedral of St 
Paul's, in London, the proudest is a simple tablet to 
the memory of Sir Christopher Wren, the architect of 
that splendid pile. "Reader," it says, "if thou seekest 
his monument, look around thee." Turnine from struc- 
tures of brick and stone to an edifice of a nobler kind, 
we of America have but to look around us to see in the 
mighty fabric of our national government the monument 
of Alexander Hamilton. 

In the summer of 1772 that beautiful group of the West 
Indies known as the Leeward Islands were desolated by a hurri- 
cane. While its effects were still visible, and men were looking fear- 
fully into the skies, an account of the calamity appeared in the Si. 
Christopher s Gazette, written with such singular ability that there was great 
curiosity to discover its author. It was traced to a youth employed in a St. 
Croix counting-house, a boy of only fifteen, named Alexander Hamilton. He 
was born in the tiny island of Nevis. His father was a Scotch gentleman, and 
his mother was of the good Huguenot stock of France. It was a happy day for 
our young author ; a lad who could write in this way, it was thought, should not 
spend his life in casting up accounts. It was at once determined to send him 
to New York to complete his education ; and in the month of October, in that 
year, he landed in Boston. 

Francis Barber, afterward a colonel, and a brave man in several battles, was 
at this time principal of a grammar-school of good repute in Elizabethtown, 
New Jersey ; and hither came the young West Indian to be prepared for 
college, — a handsome youth, erect, graceful, eagle-eyed, and "wise in conversa- 
tion as a man." 

Before the end of 1 773 he had finished his preliminary studies, and proceeded 
to Princeton, to inquire of Dr. Witherspoon if he could enter the college with 
the privilege of passing from class to class as fast as he advanced in scholarship. 
The president was sorry, but the laws of the institution would not permit. Ham- 

lOI 



I02 



ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 



ilton was more successful in New York. In King's College (now Columbia Uni- 
versity) he might sue for a degree whenever he could show the title of sufficient 
learning ; and'^so Hamilton fixed upon the New York institution. Some great 
men of 'the future were then in King's College, but there was only one Alexander 
Hamilton there. In the debating club he controlled everything by his acute- 
ness and eloquence. His room-mate was awed, night and morning, by the 
fervid passion of his prayers, and has testified that Hamilton's firm faith in 
Christianity, and his mighty and convincing arguments, did much to confirm his 
own wavering faith. Hamilton was a versatile genius ; he wrote hymns and 
burlesques ; he was pious and punctilious ; ambitious and gay. 

THE STIRRING D.WS OF ' ~j l- 

While Hamilton was at his studies in King's College, great events were 
taking place outside. The quarrel with Great Britain was becoming irrecon 
cilable. In December, 1773, occurred the " Boston Tea Party," when a band 
of patriots, disguised as Indians, boarded the British vessels laden with tea, and 
emptied their contents in the harbor. The excitement throughout the country, 
already great, increased in intensity ; the methods of resistance to be adopted 
were on every man's tongue. In .September, 1774, the first Continental Con- 
gress met in Philadelphia. Nothing was thought of but resistance to the 
tyranny of England. 

In college Hamilton never relaxed the severe application which his ambition 
and his tastes made natural ; but he was not unmindful of the storm gathering 
beyond his quiet cloisters. His mind, his pen, and his voice were from the first 
employed in defending colonial opposition to the acts of the British Parliament. 
He organized a military corps, mostly of fellow-students, who practiced their 
daily drill early in the morning, before the commencement of their college 
duties. Thev assumed the name of " Hearts of Oak," and wore a sjreen 
uniform, surmounted by a leather cap, on which was inscribed " Freedom or 
Death !" Early and late he was busy, not only in promoting measures of 
resistance, but in mastering the science of political economy, the laws of com- 
merce, the balance of trade, and the circulating medium ; so that when these 
topics became prominent, no one was better equipped for dealing with them 
than Hamilton. 

Hamilton's first political speech to a popular assembly was delivered at 
" the great meeting in the fields," as it was long afterward called, called to 
choose delegates to the first Continental Congress. He was still a student, and 
exceedingly juvenile in appearance. Being unexpectedly called upon, he at 
first faltered and hesitated ; but soon he recovered himself, and the immense 
multitude were astonished and electrified by the " infant orator," as they called 
him. After a discussion, clear, forcible, and striking, of the great principles 



HIS FIRST SPEECH. 



103 



involved, he depicted in glowing colors the aggravated oppressions of the 
mother-country. Touching this point he burst forth in a strain of bold and 
thrilling eloquence : — 

" The sacred rights of 
mankind," he declared, "are 
not to be rummaged for 
among old parchments or 
musty records ; they are 
written as with a sunbeam 
in the whole volume of 
human nature, by the hand 
of Divinity itself, and can 
never be erased or obscured 
by mortal power." 

He insisted on the duty 
of resistance, pointed out 
the means and certainty of 
success, and described " the 
waves of rebellion, spark- 
ling with fire, and washing 
back, on the shores of Eng- 
land the wrecks of her 
power, her wealth, and her 
glory." Under this sponta- 
neous burst of mature elo- 
quence from lips so youth- 
ful, the vast multitude first 
listened in awe and surprise, 
and then rose with irrepres- 
sible astonishment. The 
death-like silence ceased as 
he closed, and repeated 
cheers resounded to the 
heavens. Then the whisper, 
"A collegian — it is a colle- 
gian!" passed in surprise 
from one to another through 
the crowd. 

In March, 1776, Ham- 
ilton left college, and, joining a band of volunteers, obtained the command of a 
company of artillery. One day, while Washington was preparing for the 




,04 ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 

defense of New York. General Greene, on his way to headquarters, had his 
attention attracted to Hamilton's company, which was drilling in a neighboring 
field. The captain seemed a mere boy, small and slight, but quick in his move- 
ments, and with an air of remarkable intelligence ; and his company was handled 
with an ease and skill which roused Greene's admiration. He stopped to talk 
with him, and was soon convinced, from Hamilton's conversation, that he had 
met a youth of no common abilities. He spoke of Hamilton to General Wash- 
ington at the time, expressing his opinion of his character. 

At the passage of the Raritan, in the memorable retreat through New 
Jersey, Washington observed with admiration the courage and skill of the youth- 
ful artillery officer, and ordered his aide-de-camp, Fitzgerald, to ascertain who he 
was, and to bring him to headquarters at the first halt of the army. In the 
evening Hamilton was appointed Washington's aide-de-camp, with the rank of 
colonel. From this time he continued until February, 1781, the inseparable 
companion of the commander-in-chief and was always consulted by him, and 
by all the leading functionaries, on the most important occasions. He acted as 
his first aid at the battles of Brandywine, Germantown, and Monmouth. At 
the siege of Yorktown he led the detachment which carried by assault one of 
the strongest outworks of the foe ; and Washington, in recognition of his 
gallantry, ordered that Hamilton should receive the surrender of one of the 
divisions of Cornwallis's army. 

It would be difficult to overestimate the value of Hamilton's services during 
the long period he acted as Washington's first aid and confidential secretary. 
The principal portions of the voluminous correspondence fell on him, and the 
most elaborate communications are understood to have been made essentially 
by his assistance. "The pen of our country," says Troup, "was held by 
Hamilton ; and for dignity of manner, pith of matter, and elegance of style, 
General Washington's letters are unrivaled in military annals." 

At the time of Arnold's treason, Hamilton's position led him into acquaint 
ance with the ill-fated Andre, for whom he felt a strontj admiration. He urged 
the wisdom and good policy of sparing Andre's life, arguing, with great force, 
that it would compel a cessation of British cruelties to American prisoners ; 
but unfortunately he was overborne, and Andre was executed. 

Hamilton's militar)' achievements are such as to warrant the belief that he 
>would have made a great soldier ; but his tastes and abilities alike tended 
toward the work of the statesman, and, fortunately for the country, led him 
in that direction. The embarrassments of the Treasury and consequent suf- 
ferings of the army prompted him to take up the study of finance, and in 1779, 
in private and anonymous communications to Robert Morris, he proposed a 
great financial scheme for the country, in which, rising above all the crude 
systems of that age, and pointing to a combination of public with private credit 



HIS FINANCIAL ABILITIES. 



addressed a letter to Mr. Duane, a ""^^ 

member of the Congress from New J. -"^ ^ 

York, on the state of the nation. "^^ 

•This letter appears at this day," 

says one, 

"with a 




'S^)^^-^^ -'^ "''""OW ESCAPE OF BENEDICT ARNO,,!,, WHEN 

■-^W_^^ .^ — - '''^'"'ING NEW LONDON, CONNECTICUT. 

the liq-hts and fruits of our 
^„o,tmment w,th the requ.s.te sovereign powers; such, indeed, as 



,o6 ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 

the confederation theoretically contained, but without any fit organs to receive , 
them. He suggested the idea of a national convention to amend and reorganize 
the government. This was undoubtedly the ablest and truest production on the , 
state of the Union, its finances, its army, its miseries, its resources, and its 
remedies, that appeared during the Revolution. It contained in embryo the 
existing Federal Constitution, and it was the production of a young man of the 
age of twenty-three." 

In December, 1780, he was married to Elizabeth, a daughter of General 
Philip Schuyler, and on the first of March, 1781, he retired from the military 
family of Washington, resigning his pay, and retaining his commission only that 
he might have the power, should there be occasion, still to serve his country in 
the field. 

THE GREAT WORK OF HAMILTON'S LIFE. 

At the close of the war with England the government was so weak that it 
had sunk into contempt. The mutiny of some eighty soldiers at Philadelphia 
actually obliged Congress to adjourn to Princeton. It afterward removed to 
Annapolis ; and, as the States could not agree on a seat of government, it ; 
seemed likely to become a migratory body, with constantly diminishing numbers 
and inlluence. It had so dwindled away, that when the Treaty of Peace was 
finally to be ratified, weeks elapsed before the attendance of the required num- 
ber of nine States could be procured, and, even then, only twenty-three members 
were present at the ratification. Manifestly the construction of a strong and 
stable government was essential ; and after much delay and many disputes, the 
famous Convention of 1787, to form the Constitution, met in Philadelphia. 

Since the meeting of that renowned first Congress, which led the way in the 
struggle for independence, America had seen no such body of men as now 
assembled. Thither came George Washington, from his retirement at Mount 
Vernon, whore he had hoped "to glide gendy down a stream which no human effort 
can ascend," called to engage once more in the service of his country. From 
Virginia also came James Madison, afterward President, but then a young and 
rising politician. From Massachusetts came Rufus King, jurist and statesman ; 
from South Carolina, Charles Cotesworth Pinckncy, soldier, scholar, and lawyer. 
Pennsylvania was peculiarly fortunate in her representatives. At their head was 
Benjamin Franklin, now in his eighty-second year, the oldest and most widely 
known of American public men, and in some sort combining in his own perso 
many of the leading characteristics of America. His venerable age, his long ■ 
services, his serene and benignant aspect, commanded the respect of all, and 
imposed a controlling power on the assembly. With him came Gouverneur Mor- 
ris, one of the best and wisest of American patriots ; and Robert Morris, who 
had made the first attempts at dealing with the complicated difficuldes of Ameri- 
can finance. There were other men of note in the Convention, such as Roger 1 



THE CONSTITUTIONAL CONVENTION. 107 

Sherman of Connecticut, John Jay of New York, John Dickinson of Delaware, 
Luther Martin of Maryland, and George Mason of Virginia, — fifty-five members 
in all, representing twelve sovereign States, — for Rhode Island made no appoint- 
ment. But the whole edifice would have wanted its crowning glory if New York 
had not sent Hamilton, with the treasures of his genius and eloquence. All 
could be better spared than he, who had first conceived the plan of a reform in 
the Constitution, and who alone could carry it to a successful issue. And this 
man, foremost in an assembly of the most able representatives of the States, 
and who had already achieved so much in the field and the council, was yet only 
thirty years of age. 

Washington was unanimously called to the chair. Into particulars of 
the discussions it is not intended to enter here, but the part which Hamilton 
took in them was of an importance impossible to rate too highly. He stood in 
the midst of the jarring elements like a beneficent genius, ready to evoke order 
out of chaos ; and the proportion in which his views were adopted or rejected 
may be almost regarded as the measure of the strength and the weakness of 
the Constitution. 

The document which embodied the scheme of the present Constitution was 
signed by a majority of the delegates, and by one or more representatives of 
each of the twelve States present in the Convention. The first name on the list 
is that of George Washington, who is said to have paused a moment, with the 
pen in his hand, as he pronounced these words : " Should the States reject this 
excellent Constitution, the probability is that an opportunity will never again 
offer to cancel another in peace. The next will be drawn in blood." And in 
the speech which Franklin delivered in the assembly, he thus expressed him- 
self: " I consent, sir, to this Constitution, because I expect no better, and because 
I am not sure that this is not the best. The opinions I have had of its errors I 
sacrifice to the public good. I hope, therefore, for our own sakes, as a part of 
the people, and for the sake of posterity, we shall act heartily and unanimously 
in recommending this Constitution wherever our influence may extend, and 
turn our future thousfhts and endeavors to the means of having it well adminis- 
tered." Then, while the members were signing, he turned toward the image 
of a sun painted at the back of the President's chair, and said : " Often and 
often, in the course of the session, I have looked at it without being able to tell 
whether it was rising or setting ; but now, at length, I have the happiness to 
know that it is a rising, and not a setting sun." 

The Convention being dissolved, the plan of the Constitution was laid before 
the country, and at once excited the most fervid feelings of approbation and 
dissent. In general it was supported by moderate men, who looked with appre- 
hension at the actual state of affairs, and desired, by any reasonable compro- 
mise, to establish a practicable government On the other hand, it was violently 



I08 



ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 



opposed by that class who viewed with jealousy the rise of any central power, 
and whose theory of freedom precluded the notion of authority. Two great 
parties joined issue on the question of its acceptance or rejection. They took 
the names of Federalists and And- Federalists. A few years later, after the 
Constitution had been adopted, the same two parties, with some modifications, 
continued to divide the people of America, but they were then called Federal- 
ists and Rcpublieans. 

One of the most efficient means employed in making the new Constitution 
familiar and acceptable to the people was the publication of a series of essays 

under the name of the Feder- 
alist, which Americans still re- 
gard as the greatest and most 
complete exposition of the prin- 
ciples of their constitutional law. 
It was the work of Hamilton, 
Madison, and Jay ; but of the 
eighty-five essays of which it is 
composed, upward of fifty were 
written by Hamilton. "It was 
from him," says Mr. Curtis, "that 
the Federalist derived the weight 
and the power which commanded 
the careful attention of the coun- 
try and carried conviction to the 
great body of intelligent men in 
all parts of the Union." 

All the ability displayed in 
the /''cdcralist, and all the exer- 
tions of Hamilton and his friends, 
were required to secure the ac- 
ceptance of the Constitution. 
Hamilton threw his whole strength into the contest, and left no honest means 
untried to accomplish the end. During the months that elapsed between the 
dissolution of the Convention and the ratification of the Constitution, his viei- 
lance never slumbered, and his exertions were not relaxed for a moment. Many 
able men were engaged in that struggle, but none rendered such service as he 
did to the Federalist cause. 

The first State to ratify the Constitution was little Delaware, on the 7th of 
December, 1787. Pennsylvania, influenced by the name of Franklin, was the 
next to follow. Then came Xew Jersey, Georgia, and Connecticut. But it was 
felt that the hardest of the battle must be fought in Vircnnia and New York. In 




JAMES .MAUIoU.N, 1IA.SUI,I ONS CHIEF AID I\ WRITING 
"rHK FKDKRALIST. " 



FIRST SECRETARY OF THE TREASURY. 



109 



Virginia the opposition was led by Patrick Henry, whose fiery eloquence had 
done so much in exciting his countrymen to resistance in the commencement 
of the struggle with Great Britain. In New York the whole interest of Gover- 
nor Clinton and his friends, and many local and personal prejudices, were arrayed 
against the adoption of the Constitution. The State convention to decide the 
matter was held at Poughkeepsie, and the whole State was agitated by the 
discussion. 

" HAMILTON IS SPEAKING ! " 

On the 24th of June Hamilton received intelligence that, by the ratification 
of New Hampshire, the Constitution had been adopted by nine States, the num- 
ber requisite for its establishment. The question was then at once raised whether 
New York was to remain in the Confederacy, or to stand alone as an independ- 
ent power. There was a party favoring the latter alternative ; but Hamilton felt 
that to leave out New York would be to abandon the heart and centre of the 
Union, and resolved to combat the project by all the means at his disposal. 
During the last days of the Convention, the streets of New York were filled 
with an excited crowd, waiting for news from Poughkeepsie, and, as each mes- 
senger arrived, it was repeated from mouth to mouth : " Hamilton is speaking ! 
Hamilton is speaking yet !" as though the destinies of the country hung sus- 
pended on his words. And when at length the tidings of the ratification reached 
the city, the bells pealed from the church towers, the cannon resounded from the 
forts, and a loud and exulting shout proclaimed that the popular voice had sanc- 
tioned the victory of the Constitution. 

The first election under the new Constitution was held in the autumn of 
1788. There was no question as to who should be the first President. Wash- 
ington was elected without opposition, and on April 30, 1789, took the oath 
of office in New York. In choosing his Cabinet he at once offered the treasury 
to Hamilton. He is said to have consulted Robert Morris, the former superin- 
tendent of finance, as to the second of these appointments, asking, with a 
sigh : "What is to be done with this heavy debt? " "There is but one man in 
the United States," answered Morris, "who can tell you, and that is Alexander 
Hamilton." 

The President, who well remembered the invaluable services of his aide-de- 
camp, could fully subscribe to this flattering estimate of his talents. He had 
lately been in frequent communication with Hamilton, and had consulted him 
on several grave and delicate questions. He had always cherished a pleasant 
recollection of their intimacy, and now the old feelings of friendship had strongly 
revived between them. In his elevated position Washington needed more than 
ever a friend he could entirely trust. On every ground, therefore, private as 
well as public, he was glad to offer this important post to Hamilton ; and the 
latter did not hesitate to accept it, although he well knew its difficulties. 



no 



ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 



Hamilton now devoted all his thoughts to the national finances, and was 
busy in devising schemes to meet the pressing exigencies of the time. The 
office required the vigorous exercise of all his powers ; and his reports of plans 
for the restoration of public credit, on the protection and encouragement of 
manufactures, on the necessity and the constitutionahty of a national bank, and 
on the establishment of a mint, would alone have given him the reputation of 
beini? one of the most consummate statesmen who have ever lived. The plans 
which he proposed were adopted by Congress almost without alteration. 
When he entered upon the duties of his office the government had neither 
credit nor money, and the resources of the country were unknown ; when he 
retired, at the end of five years, the fiscal condition of no people was better or 
more clearly understood. Mr. Gallatin has said that secretaries of the treas- 
ury have since enjoyed a sinecure, the genius and labors of Hamilton having 
created and arranged everything that was necessary for the perfect and easy 
discharge of their duties. 

" He smote the rock of the national resources," says Daniel Webster, 
"and abundant streams of revenue gushed forth. He touched the dead corpse 
of the Public Credit, and it sprang upon its feet. The fabled birth of Minerva 
from the brain of Jove was hardly more sudden or more perfect than the finan- 
cial system of the United States, as it burst forth from the brain of Alexander 
Hamilton." 

"\\'hen, after years of immense labor, the financial system of the govern- 
ment was established, Hamilton resolved to retire from office. Doubtless he 
was weary of constant struggle ; for the politics of the time were charged with 
such bitterness that even Washington did not escape the most venomous abuse. 
Hamilton's enemies made ceaseless attacks upon him ; but there were other 
reasons which made him wish to retire, and which, if anything could have done 
so, might have called a blush to the cheeks of his persecutors. This man, who 
had held the revenues of an empire at his disposal, and whom his adversaries 
had not scrupled to charge with enriching himself at the public expense, was in 
reality very poor. His official salary did not suffice for the wants of his family, 
and his official duties had obliged him to abandon his practice at the bar. He 
was anxious, before it was too late, to repair his fortunes, and provide for his 
wife and children. 

Hamilton now set to work at his profession, and was once more the leading 
spirit of the bar. Talleyrand, passing his office long after midnight, saw him 
still there at his desk. "I have beheld," said he, "one of the wonders of the 
world. I have seen a man, who has made the fortune of a nation, laboring all 
night to support his family." And yet, while thus working at his ordinary 
calling, Hamilton never withdrew his attention from public affairs. He was still 
the leader of his party, and the unsalaried adviser of the President : and as a 



HAMIL TON A T HOME. in 

necessary consequence, he was still the mark for the poisoned arrows of his 
enemies. 

From 1795 to 1797 Washington often had recourse to Hamilton for 
counsel. He had resolved to retire from office at the expiration of his second 
term ; and, as the time approached, he determined to issue a Farewell Address 
to the American people. On this subject also he consulted Hamilton. There 
has been much controversy as to the exact authorship of this celebrated paper, 
but the fact seems to be that, while the origfinal oroundwork was Washington's 
own, the superstructure was in great part Hamilton's. While he retained 
wherever he could the thoughts and language of Washington, he added much 
valuable matter, and brought the whole into its present form. Calm, wise, and 
noble, it is a monument worthy of the great man whose name it bears ; and, had 
the American people always remembered its lessons, it would have been well 
for their own peace, and conducive to the happiness of the world. 

In the neighborhood of New York, but still in the midst of rural scenery, 
Hamilton, after resigning his position in the government, purchased a small 
estate. The ground was adorned with fine old trees, a pleasant lawn spread in 
front of the house, and the balcony commanded a magnificent prospect. Har- 
lem River, Long Island Sound, and many a scene endeared by its own beauty, 
or made interesting by associations, were visible from this lovely spot. Hamil- 
ton called it "The Grange," after the name of his grandfather's house in 
Scotland ; and thither he came from the labors of his profession, to enjoy the 
society of his family and the refreshment of a country life. He was once more 
a busy man at the bar, and, although he could never keep quite clear of politics, 
they no longer occupied all his thoughts. He busied himself with his garden, 
— "a very useful refuge," he says, "for a disappointed politician," — sent to 
Carolina for melon-seeds and paroquets for his daughter, played at soldiers with 
his boys, and spent summer evenings with his friends on the green slopes of 
his domain. A great sorrow came to darken this cheerful picture. His eldest 
son, a promising youth of twenty, was killed in a duel arising from a dispute 
at the theatre. It was a bitter grief to the father and all the family ; but it 
only foreshadowed the worse calamity that was to follow. 

Hamilton met his death at the hands 'of Aaron Burr, in a duel, on July 11, 
1804. At that time public sentiment on the subject of dueling was such as to 
make it very difficult for Hamilton to refuse Burr's challenge. They had long 
been political opponents, and Hamilton had more than once denounced Burr's 
public acts. Burr addressed a letter to Hamilton, repeating a newspaper report 
that Hamilton had " expressed a despicable opinion" of Burr, and " looked upon 
him as a dangerous man," and demanding a wholesale denial or retractation. 
This it was obviously impossible to give. The correspondence which followed left 
Hamilton no choice but to either accept or decline Burr's challenge. A paper 



112 



ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 



written before the duel explains his reasons for not declining to meet Burr, 
which were in effect that in the state of public opinion on dueling, a refusal to 
accept his challenge would destroy his public usefulness afterward. 

The duel took place at Weehawken, in New Jersey, nearly opposite New I 
York. When the word was given, Hamilton did not fire immediately; but 
Burr, takinof deliberate aim, fired, the ball enteringr Hamilton's rifjht side. He 
was taken across the Hudson to his home, where he died the following day. 

Hamilton was not faultless ; but his errors were greatly exaggerated by 




DUl:l. DKTWEtN liUUk AND IlAMU.RiN. 



his enemies ; and there were few among his distinguished political adversaries 
whose private character approached his in purity. His public life was without 
a stain. In ability he stands in the front rank. " He must be classed," says 
the great French historian Guizot, "among the men who have best known the 
vital principles and fundamental conditions of government. There is not in 
the Constitution of the United States an element of order, strength, or durabil- 
, ity which he did not powerfully contribute to introduce into it." The judgment 
of hi.story will undoubtedly be that Alexander Hamilton was the greatest con- 
structive statesman of the eighteenth century. 



THOMAS JEFFERSON, 

THE PIONEER. OE DEIvIOCRACY IN AIVIBRICA. 



AT the beginning of the nine- 
teenth century the people 
of the United States may 
be said to have been di- 
vided into two classes, — 
those who thought Thomas 
Jefferson the greatest and 
wisest of living men, and 
those who believed him the 
worst and most daneerous. 
The French Revolution, 
that great uprising of the 
masses against the oppres- 
sions of despotic power, 
had then divided public 
opinion throughout the 
whole civilized world. Jef- 
ferson was at the head of 
the party which sympa- 
thized with the common 
people, and advocated their 
cause. The opposite party, 
shocked and horrified at 
the excesses committed by 
the revolutionists in France, 
looked upon everything democratic with indescribable fear and aversion. 
These extremes of opinion make it difficult, even at this day, to get a fair and 
moderate opinion of Jefferson. He is either a fiend incarnate or an angel of 
light. Bilt whether the principles for which he stood be approved or con- 
demned, their success at least cannot be denied. Jefferson w^as the pioneer 
of democracy, the apostle of the sovereignty of the common people, which 

115 




THE LIBERTY BELL, AS EXHIBITED AT THE NEW ORLEANS EXPOSITION 



1 16 THOMAS JEFFERSON. 

from his time to the present has become every year more firmly rooted in 
American politics ; and whether it be for good or ill, it is for this that he will be 
remembered in the centuries yet to come. 

Thomas Jefferson was born in 1743, near the site of the present town of 
Charlottesville, Virginia. His father, Peter Jefferson, owned a plantation of 
fourteen hundred acres called Shadwell, from the name of the parish in London 
where his wife was born. His home was literally hewn out of the wilderness. 
There were but few white settlers within many miles of the mansion, which con- 
sisted of a spacious story and a half cottage-house. A wide hall and fcur large 
rooms occupied the lower floor. Above these there were good chambers and a 
spacious garret, 'i'wo huge outside chimneys contributed to the picturesque 
aspect of the mansion. It was delightfully situated upon a gentle swell of land 
on the slopes of the Blye Ridge, and commanded a sublime prospect of far- 
reaching mountains and forests. 

Thomas was naturally of a serious, pensive, reflective turn of mind. From 
the time he was five years of age he was kept diligently at school under the best 
teachers. He was a general favorite with both teachers and scholars, hi the year 
1760 he entered William and Mary College. Williamsburg was then the seat 
of the colonial court, and the abode of fashion and splendor. Young Jefferson 
lived in college somewhat expensively, keeping fine horses, and much caressed 
by gay society. Still, he was earrjestly devoted to his studies and irreproachable 
in his morals. 

In 1767 he entered upon the practice of the law. His thoroughly disci- 
plined mind, ample stores of knowledge, and polished address, were rapidly 
raising him to distinction, when the outbreak of the Revolution introduced him 
to loftier spheres of responsibility. He had been but a short time admitted to 
the bar ere he was chosen by his fellow-citizens to a seat in the Legislature of 
Virginia. This was in 1769. Jefferson was then the largest slaveholder in the 
house. It is a remarkable evidence of his forcsiidit, his moral couraee, and the 
love of liberty which inspired him, that he introduced a bill empowering slave- 
holders to manumit their slaves if they wished to do so. Slavery caught the 
alarm. The proposition was rejected by an overwhelming vote. 

In 1772 he married Mrs. Martha Skelton, a very beautiful, wealthy, and 
highly accomplished young widow. She brought to him, as her munificent 
dowry, forty thousand acres of land, and one hundred and thirty-five slaves. 
He thus became one of the largest slaveholders in Virginia : and yet he labored 
with all his energies for the abolition of slavery; declaring the institution to be 
a curse to the master, a curse to the slave, and an offense in the sight of God. 

In 1775 Jefferson was chosen a member of the Continental Congress, and 
in June of that year he left Williamsburg to take his seat in the Congress 
at Philadelphia. He was the youngest member in the body but one. His 



THE REVOLUTIONARY WAR. 117 

reputation as a writer had preceded him, and he immediately took a conspicu- 
ous stand, thougli lie seldom spoke. The native suavity of Jefferson, his mod- 
esty, and the frankness and force with which he expressed his views, captivated 
even his opponents. It is said that he had not an enemy in Congress. 

WRITING THE GREAT DECLARATION. 

When the time came for drafting- the "Declaration of Independence," that 
great task was committed to Jefferson. Franklin and Adams suggested a few 
changes before it was submitted to Congress. The Declaration passed a fiery 
ordeal of criticism. For three days the debate continued. Mr. Jefferson opened 
not his lips. John Adams was the great champion of the Declaration on the 
floor. One may search all the ages to find a more solemn, momentous event than 
the signing of the Declaration of Independence. It was accompanied with 
prayer to Almighty God. Silence pervaded the room as one after another 
affixed his name to that document, which brought down upon him the implacable 
hate of the mightiest power upon the globe, and which doomed him inevitably to 
the scaffold, should the feeble colonies fail in the unequal struggle. 

In 1779 Mr. Jefferson was chosen governor of Virginia. He was then 
thirty-six years of age. The British were now preparing to strike their heaviest 
blows upon the South. Georgia had fallen helpless into the hands of the foe ; 
South Carolina was invaded, and Charleston threatened. At one time the 
British officer, Tarleton, sent a secret expedition to Monticello to capture the 
governor. Scarcely five minutes elapsed after the hurried escape of Mr. Jeffer- 
son and his family ere his mansion was in the possession of the British troops. 
A detachment of the army of Cornwallis, in their march north from the Carolinas, 
seized also another plantation which he owned on the James river. The foe 
destroyed all his crops, burnt his barns and fences, drove off the cattle, seized 
the serviceable horses, cut the throats of the colts, and left the whole plantation 
a smouldering, blackened waste. Twenty-seven slaves were also carried off. 
" Had he carried off the slaves," says Jefferson with characteristic magnanimity, 
"to give them freedom, he would have done right." 

The English ministry were now getting tired of the war. The opposition 
in Parliament had succeeded in carrying a resolution on the 4th of March, 1782, 
"That all those who should advise, or by any means attempt, the further prose- 
cution of offensive war in America, should be considered as enemies to their 
king and country." This popular decision overcame the obstinacy of the king, 
and he was compelled to make overtures for peace. 

Mr. Jefferson had wonderful power of winning men to his opinions, while 
he scrupulously avoided all controversy. The following extract from a letter to 
his grandson brings clearly to light this trait in his character : — 

"In stating prudential rules for our government in society, I must not omit 



ii8 



THOMAS JEFFERSON. 



the important one of never entering into dispute or argument with another. 1 
never yet saw an instance of one of two disputants convmcing the other by 
ar^rument : I have seen many, of their getting warm, becoming rude, and shoot- 
incr one another. Conviction is the effect of our own dispassionate reasoning, 




INDEPENDEN'CK HALL, PHILADELPHIA. 



either in solitude or weighing within ourselves dispassionately what we hear 
from others, standing uncommitted in argument ourselves. It was one of the 
rules, which, above all others, made Dr. Franklin the most amiable of men in 
society, ' never to contradict anybody.' " 



RETURN FROM FRANCE. iig 

In May, 1784, Congress appointed Mr. Jefferson to act as minister with 
Mr. Adams and Dr. Franklin in negotiating treaties of commerce with foreign 
nations. Leaving two daugliters with their aunt, he took his eldest daughter 
Martha with him and sailed for Europe. After a delightful voyage he reached 
Paris on the 6th of August. Here he placed his daughter at school, and, meet- 
ing his colleagues at Passy, engaged vigorously with them in accomplishing the 
object of his mision. Dr. Franklin, now aged and infirm, obtained permission 
to return home from his embassy to France. His genial character, combined 
with his illustrious merit, had won the love of the French people ; and he was 
unboundedly popular with both peasant and prince. Such attentions were 
lavished upon him in his journey from Paris to the coast, that it was almost an 
ovation. It was, indeed, a delicate matter to step into the position which had 
been occupied by one so enthusiastically admired. Few men could have done 
this so gracefully as did Jefferson. 

"You replace Monsieur F"ranklin, I hear," said the celebrated French 
minister, the Count de, Vergennes. "I succeed him," was the prompt reply: 
"no man can replace him." 

SECRETARY OF STATE. 

In September, 1 789, Jefferson returned with his daughter to America. 
Immediately upon his return from France, Washington wrote to him in the most 
flattering terms, urging upon him a seat in his cabinet as Secretary of State. 
After some sonference he accepted the appointment. His eldest daughter, 
Martha, was married on the 23d of February, 1790, to Colonel Thomas M. 
Randolph. A few days after the wedding, on the ist of March, Mr. Jefferson 
set out for New York, which was then the seat of government. He went by 
way of Richnjond and Alexandria. The roads were horrible. At the latter 
place he took a stage, sending his carriage round by water, and leading his 
horses. Through snow and mud, their speed seldom exceeded three or four 
miles an hour by day, and one mile an hour by night. A fortnight, of great 
fatigue, was consumed in the journey. Occasionally Jefferson relieved the 
monotony of the dreary ride by mounting his led saddle-horse. At Philadel- 
phia he called upon his friend Benjamin Franklin, then in his last illness. 

The American Revolution did not originate in hostility to a monarchical 
form of government, but in resisting the oppressions which that government 
was inflicting upon the American people. Consequently, many persons, who 
were most active in the Revolution, would have been very willing to see an 
independent monarchy established here. But Mr. Jefferson had seen so much 
of the pernicious influence of kings and courts in Europe that he had become 
an intense republican. Upon his arrival in New York he was much surprised 
at the freedom with which many persons advocated a monarchical government. 
He writes, — 



I20 



THOMAS JEFFERSON. 



" I cannot describe the wonder and mortification with which the table con- 
versation filled me. Politics were the chief topic ; and a preference of a kingly 
over a republican government was evidently the favorite sentiment. An apos- 
tate I could not be, nor yet a hypocrite ; and 1 found myself for the most part, 
the only advocate on the republican side of the quesdon, unless among the 
guests there chanced to be some member of that party from the legislative 

houses." 

President Washington watched with great anxiety the rising storm, and did 
all he could to quell its fury. His cabinet was divided. General Hamilton, 
Secretary of the Treasury, was leader of the so-called Federal party. Mr. 




STAGE-COACH OF JEFFERSON S TIME. 



Jefferson, Secretary of State, was leader of the Republican party. On the 30th 
of September, 1792, as he was going from Monticello to the seat of govern- 
ment, he stopped, as usual, at Mount Vernon, and spent a night with President 
Washington. Mr. Jefferson makes the following record in his note-book of this 
interview, which shows conclusively that President Washington did not agree 
with Mr. Jefferson in his belief that there was a strong monarchical party in this 
country : — 

"The President," he writes, "expressed his concern at the difference which 
he found to subsist between the Secretary of the Treasury and myself of which, 
he said, he had not been aware. He knew, indeed, that there was a marked 
difference in our political sentiments ; but he had never suspected it had gone 



DISPUTES WITH HAMILTON. 121 

so far in producing a personal difference, and he wished he could be the mediator 
to put an end to it ; that he thought it important to preserve the check of my 
opinions in the administration, in order to keep things in their proper channel, 
and prevent them from going too far ; that, as to the idea of transforming this 
government into a monarchy, he did not believe there were ten men in the United 
States, whose opinions were wortli attention, who entertained such a thought." 

Some important financial measures which were proposed by Mr. Hamilton, 
Mr. Jefferson violently opposed. They were, however, sustained by the cabinet, 
adopted by both houses of the legislature, and approved by the President. The 
enemies of Mr. Jefferson now pressed him with the charge of indelicacy in hold- 
ing office under a government whose leading measures he opposed. Bitter was 
the warfare waged between the two hostile secretaries. Hamilton accused 
Jefferson of lauding the constitution in public, while in private he had admitted 
that it contained those imperfections of want of power which Hamilton laid to its 
charge. 

The President seems to have been in accord with Mr. Jefferson in his views 
of the importance of maintaining cordial relations with France. Both England 
and Spain were then making encroachments upon us, very menacing in their 
aspect. The President, in a conversation with Mr. Jefferson, on the 27th of 
December, 1792, urged the necessity of making sure of the alliance with France 
in the event of a rupture with either of these powers. " There is no nation," 
said he, "on whom we can rely at all times, but France." This had long been 
one of the fundamental principles of Mr. Jefferson's policy. Upon the election 
of President Washington to his second term of ofifice, Mr. Jefferson wished to 
retire from the Cabinet. Dissatisfaction with the measures of the government 
was doubtless a leading cause. At the earnest solicitation, however, of the 
President, he consented to remain in his position, which was daily becoming 
more uncomfortable, until the last of July, when he again sent in his resignation. 
But still again President Washington so earnestly entreated him to remain, that, 
very reluctantly, he consented to continue in office until the close of the year. 

Every day the political horizon was growing more stormy. All Europe 
was in the blaze of war. England, the most powerful monarchy on the globe, 
was straining every nerve to crush the French Revolution. The haughty course 
which the British government pursued toward the United States had exasper- 
ated even the placid Washington. He wrote to General Hamilton on the 31st 
of August, 1794: — 

" By these high-handed measures of that government, and the outrageous 
and insulting conduct of its officers, it would seem next to impossible to keep 
peace between the United States and Great Britain." 

Even John Adams became aroused. Two years after, he wrote, in refer- 
ence to the cool treatment which his son, John Ouincy Adams, had received in 



122 THOMAS JEFFERSON. 

England : "I am glad of it ; for I would not have my son go as far as Mr. 
Jay, and affirm the friendly disposition of that country to this. I know better. 
I know their jealousy, envy, hatred, and revenge, covered under pretended 
contempt." Jefferson's slumbering energies were electrified ; he wrote fiery 
letters, and by his conversational eloquence moved all who approached him. 

A new presidential election came on. John Adams was the Federal can- 
diate ; Thomas Jefferson the Republican. It does not appear that Mr. Jefferson 
was at all solicitous of being elected. Indeed, he wrote to Mr. Madison, " There 
is nothing I so anxiously hope as that my name may come out either second or 
third ; as the last would leave me at home the whole of the year, and the other 
two-thirds of it." Alluding to the possibility that "the representatives maybe 
divided," he makes the remarkable declaration, of the sincerity of which no one 
who knows the man can doubt, "This is a difficulty from which the Constitution 
has provided no issue. It is both my duty and inclination, therefore, to relieve 
the embarrassment, should it happen ; and, in that case I pray you, and autho- 
rize you fully, to solicit on my behalf that Mr. Adams may be preferred. He 
has always been my senior from the commencement of our public life ; and, the 
expression of the public will being equal, this circumstance ought to give him 
the preference." 

As the result of the election. Mr. Adams became President, and Mr. Jef- 
ferson, Vice-President. This rendered it necessary for him to leave Monticello 
for a few months each year to attend the sessions of Congress. His numerous 
letters to his children show how weary he had become of party strife, with 
what reluctance he left his home, with what joy he returned to it. 

In June, 1800, Congress moved from Philadelphia to Washington. The 
new seat of government, literally hewn out of the wilderness, was a dreary place. 
Though for twelve years workmen had been employed in that lonely, uninhab- 
ited, out-of-the-way spot, in putting up the public buildings, there was nothing 
as yet finished ; and vast piles of stone and brick and mortar were scattered 
at great distances from each other, with swamps or sand-banks intervening. 

Mrs. John Adams, who had seen the residences of royalty in Europe, — ■ 
Buckingham Palace, Versailles, and the Tuileries, — gives an amusing account 
of their entrance upon the splendors of the " White House." In trying to find 
Washington from Baltimore, they got lost in the woods. After driving for some 
time, bewildered in forest paths, they chanced to come upon a black man, whom 
they hired to guide them through the forest. "The house," she writes, "is 
upon a grand and superb scale, requiring about thirty servants to attend, and 
keep the apartments in proper order. The fires we are obliged to keep, to 
secure us from daily agues, are another very cheering comfort ; but, surrounded 
with forests, can you believe that wood is not to be had, because people cannot 
be found to cut and cart it?" 




SIGNING THE DECLARATION OF AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE. 



124 THOMAS JEFFERSON. 

The four years of Mr. Jefferson's Vice-Presidency passed joylessly away, 
while the storm of partisan strife between Federalist and Republican was ever 
growing hotter. General Hamilton, who was a great power in those days, 
became as much alienated from Mr. Adams as from Jefferson. There was a 
split in the Federal party. A new presidential election came on. Mr. Jeffer- 
son was chosen President ; and Aaron Burr, Vice-President. 

THE people's president. 

The news of the election of Jefferson was n;ceived in most parts of the 
Union with the liveliest demonstrations of joy. He was the leader of the suc- 
cessful and rapidly increasing party. His friends were found in every city and 
village in our land. They had been taught to believe that the triumph of the 
opposite party would be the triumph of aristocratic privilege and of civil and 
religious despotism. On the other hand, many of the Federalists turned pale 
when the tidings reached them that Thomas Jefferson was President of the 
United States. Both the pulpit and the press had taught them that he was the 
incarnation of all evil, — an infidel, an atheist, a scoffer at all things sacred ; a 
leveler, a revolutionist, an advocate of mob government. 

Jefferson was exceedingly simple in his tastes, having a morbid dislike of 
all that court etiquette which had disgusted him so much in Europe. Washing- 
ton rode to the halls of Congress in state, drawn by six cream-colored horses. 
Jefferson, on the morning of his inauguration, rode on horseback to the Capitol 
in a dress of plain cloth, without guard or servant, dismounted without assist- 
ance, and fastened the bridle of his horse to the fence. It may be that Mr. 
Jefferson had allowed his mind to become so thoroughly imbued with the con- 
viction that our government was drifting towards monarchy and aristocracy, 
that he felt bound to set the example of extreme democratic simplicity. 

The political principles of the Jeffersonian party now swept the country, 
and Mr. Jefferson swayed an influence which was never exceeded by Washing- 
ton himself Louisiana, under which name was then included the whole territory 
west of the Mississippi to the Pacific, was purchased of France, under his admin- 
istration, in the year 1803, for fifteen millions of dollars. 

He was now smitten by another domestic grief In the year 1804 his beau- 
tiful daughter Maria, whom he so tenderly loved, sank into the grave, leaving 
her babe behind her. His eldest daughter, Martha, speaking of her father's 
suffering under this terrible grief says, — 

" I found him with the Bible in his hands. He who has been so often and 
so harshly accused of unbelief — he, in his hour of intense affliction, sought and 
found consolation in the sacred volume. The comforter was there for his true 
heart and devout spirit, even though his faith might not be what the world calls 
orthodox." 



SECOND TERM AS PRESIDENT. 



125 



Another presidential election came in 1804. Mr. Jefferson was reelected 
President with wonderful unanimity ; and George Clinton, Vice-President. Jef- 
ferson was sixty-two years of age, when, on the 4th of March, 1805, he entered 
upon his second term of office. Our relations with England were daily becom- 
ing more complicated, from the British demand of the right to stop any of our 
ships, whether belonging to either the commercial or naval marine, and to take 
from them any sailors whom tliey felt disposed to claim as British subjects. The 
course England pursued rendered it certain that war could not be avoided. Mr. 
Jefferson humanely did everything in his power to prevent the Indians from 




FAIRFAX COURT HOUSE — A TYPICAL VIRGINIA COURT HOUSE. 



taking any part in it whatever. The British, on the contrary, were endeavoring 
to rouse them to deluge the frontiers in blood. .Strange as it may now seem, 
the measures of government to redress these wrongs were virulently opposed. 
But notwithstanding the strength and influence of the opposition to Mr. Jeffer- 
son's administration, he was sustained by the general voice of the nation. 

In the year 1808 Mr. Jefferson closed his second term of office, and James 
Madison succeeded him as President of the United States. In the following 
terms the retiring President expresses to a friend his feelings upon surrendering 
the cares of office : — 



\\ 



126 THOMAS JEFFERSON. 

" Within a few days I retire to my family, my books, and farms ; and, 
having gained the harbor myself, I shall look on my friends, still buffeting the 
storm, with anxiety indeed, but not with envy. Never did a prisoner, released 
from his chains, feel such relief as I shall on shaking off the shackles of power. 
Nature intended me for the tranquil pursuits of science by rendering them my 
supreme delight ; but the enormities of the times in which I have lived have 
forced me to take a part in resisting them, and to commit myself on the boister- 
ous ocean of political passions. I thank God for the opportunity of retiring 
from them without censure, and carrying with me the most consoling proofs of 
public approbation." 

HOME LIFE AND HOSPITALITY. 

Jefferson's subsequent life at Monticello was very similar to that of Wash- 
ington at Mount Vernon. His mornincrs he devoted to his numerous corre- 
spondence ; from breakfast to dinner he was in the shops and over the farms ; 
from dinner to dark he devoted to recreation and friends ; from dark to early 
bedtime he read. He was particularly interested in young men, advising 
them as to their course of reading. Several came and took up their resi- 
dence in the neighboring town of Charlottesville, that they might avail them- 
selves of his library, which was ever open for their use. 

Toward the latter part of his life, from a series of misfortunes, Mr. Jef- 
ferson became deeply involved in debt, so that it was necessary for him to 
sell a large portion of his estate. He was always profuse in his hospitality. 
W^hole families came in their coaches with their horses, — fathers and mothers, 
boys and girls, babies and nurses, — and remained three or even six months. 
One family of six persons came from Europe, and made a visit of ten months. 
After a short tour they returned, and remained six months longer. Every 
day brought its contingent of guests. Such hospitality would speedily con- 
sume a larger fortune than Mr. Jefferson possessed. His daughter, Mrs. 
Randolph, was the presiding lady of this immense establishment. The domes- 
tic service required thirty-seven house servants. Mrs. Randolph, upon being 
asked what was the greatest number of guests she had ever entertained any 
one night, replied, " she believed fifty." 

In the winter Mr. Jefferson had some little repose from the crowd of visitors. 
He then enjoyed, in the highest possible degree, all that is endearing in domes- 
tic life. It is impossible to describe the love with which he was cherished by 
his grandchildren. One of them writes, in a letter overflowine with the gush- 
ing of a loving heart, " My Bible came from him, my Shakespeare, my first 
writing-table, my first handsome writing-desk, my first Leghorn hat, my first 
silk dress : what, in short, of all my treasures did ;/fl/ come from him ? My 
sisters, according to their wants and tastes, were equally thought of, equally 
provided for. Our grandfather seemed to read our hearts^ to see our individual 



LIFE AT MONTI CELLO. 



127 



wishes, to be our good genius, to wave the fairy wand to brighten our young 
lives by his goodness and his gifts." 

Another writes: "I cannot describe the feehngs of veneration, admiration, 
and love that existed in my heart toward him. I looked on him as being too 
great and good for my comprehension ; and yet I felt no fear to approach him, 
and be taught by him some of the childish sports I delighted in. Not one of 
us, in our wildest moods, ever placed a foot on one of the garden-beds, for that 
would violate one of his rules ; and yet I never heard him utter a harsh word to 
one of us, or speak in a raised tone of voice, or use a threat." 

In 181 2 a perfect reconciliation took place between Mr. Adams and Mr. 
Jefferson ; the latter very handsomely and magnanimously making the first 
advances. This friendship, which was kept up by a constant interchange of 
letters, continued unabated until their death, — on the same day, and almost at 
the same hour. 

In a letter dated •" 
March 21, 18 19, he writes 
to Dr. Vine Utley, "I 
never go to bed without 
an hour or half an hour's 
previous reading of some- 
thing moral whereon to 
ruminate in the intervals 
of sleep." The book from 
which he oftenest read was 
a collection which he had 
made by cutting such pas- 



from the Evanee- 




W/l?'/0 



ONE SIXTH OFA SPANISH 

MUl'd Dallar.-orlhcVetUw 
thereof Cn GoldorSilver 

/o^c given in exchange at 

Ives.sxxry olVlRGINlA, 
Fursuatii io A. C T oj 

iVSSEMBXiY 



CX- 







lists as came directly from 
the lips of the Saviour. These he arranged in a blank-book. Jefferson writes to 
a friend : "A more beautiful or precious morsel of ethics I have never seen : it is 
a document in proof that I am a 7'eal Christian ; that is to say, a disciple of the 
doctrines of Jesus." This book Mr. Jefferson prepared evidently with o-reat 
care. It is a very full compend of the teachings of our Saviour. It was entitled 
"The Philosophy of Jesus of Nazareth." He also prepared a second volume, 
which he had bound in morocco, in a handsome octave volume, and which he 
labeled on the back, " Morals of Jesus." It is a little remarkable that Mr. 
Jefferson should have made these collections so secretly that none of the mem- 
bers of his family knew even of the existence of the books until after his death. 
The year 1826 opened gloomily upon Mr. Jefferson. He was very infirm, 
and embarrassed by debts, from which he could see but little hope of extrica- 
tion. The indorsement for a friend had placed upon him an additional twent^' 



128 THOMAS JEFFERSON. 

thousand dollars of debt. He applied to the Legislature for permission to dis- 
pose of a large portion of his property by lottery, hoping thus to realize a sum 
sufficient to pay his debts, and to leave enough to give him a competence for 
his few remaining days. Though opposed to all gambling, he argued, in sup- 
port of his petition, that lotteries were not immoral. He wrote to a friend, 
that, if the Legislature would grant him the indulgence he solicited, " 1 can save 
the house of Monticello and a farm adjoining to end my days in, and bury my 
bones ; if not, I must sell house and all here, and carry my family to Bed- 
ford, where I have not even a log hut to put my head into." 

To Mr. Jefferson's great gratification, the lottery bill finally passed. But, 
all over the country, friends, who appreciated the priceless value of the services 
which he had rendered our nation, began to send to him tokens of their love. 
The mayor of New York, Philip Hone, sent him, collected from a few friends, 
eight thousand five hundred dollars ; from Philadelphia, five thousand dollars 
were sent ; from Baltimore, three thousand dollars ; and one or two thousand 
more were sent from other sources. These testimonials, like sunshine breaking 
through the clouds, dispelled the gloom which had been so deeply gathering 
around his declining day. \'ery rapidly he was now sinking. His steps 
became so feeble that with difficulty he could totter about the house. 

There was something peculiarly gentle and touching in his whole demeanor. 
His good-night kiss, his loving embrace, his childlike simplicity and tenderness, 
often brought tears to the eyes of those whose privilege it was to minister to his 
wants. It was evident that he was conscious that the hour of his departure was 
at hand. He was exceedingly careful to avoid making any trouble, and was far 
more watchful for the comfort of those around him than for his own. His pas- 
sage was very slow down into the vale of death. To one who expressed the 
opinion that he seemed a little better, he replied, — 

" Do not imagine for a moment that I feel the smallest solicitude about the 
result. I am like an old watch, with a pinion worn out here and a wheel there, 
until it can go no longer." 

On Monday evening, the 3d of July, he awoke about ten o'clock from 
troubled sleep, and, thinking it morning, remarked, "This is the 4th of July." 
Immediately he sank away again into slumber. As the night passed slowly 
away, all saw that he was sinking in death. There was silence in the death- 
chamber. The mysterious separation of the soul from the body was painlessly 
taking place. About noon, July 4th, 1826, the last breath left the body, and 
the great statesman and patriot was no more. 



ANDREW JACKSON, 



THE HERO OE THE WAR OE 1812, AND EORULAR 

PRESIDENT. 



^^'"-^ SOME men are remembered for what they 

do ; others for what they are. To the 
latter class belongs Andrew Jackson. 
No American has left a more distinct 
impress of himself on the popular mind ; 
no man of his time is so well known, 
and so vividly remembered. He may 
be loved or hated, but he cannot be for- 
Sfotten. And this is not because he was 
twice President, nor because he threat- 
ened to hanof the South Carolina nulli- 
fiers, nor because he made war on the 
United States Bank, nor because he 
introduced the spoils system. It is 
because he was Andrew Jackson. 

No greater contrast could be found 
than that between his administration 
and the preceding one of John Ouincy 
Adams. Adams was the model official. 
His ambition was to make his adminis- 
tration a perfect machine. Under it the people prospered ; the public business 
was admirably done ; the country grew and expanded. But amid all this his 
personality was almost completely sunk. Few ever thought of John Ouincy 
Adams. When Jackson became President, this was reversed. Good men were 
turned out and bad men were put in. The public business was sacrificed to 
personal and party advantage. The rights and powers of other branches of 
the government were usurped, and tyranny of the grossest kind came to be a 
matter of course. Amid all this the single figure was Andrew Jackson. He 
was the person whom every one saw, of whom all thought and talked ; and it 
is safe to say that no other President, down to the time of Lincoln, is so well 
remembered by the common people. 




'y^i'"'' 



132 ANDREW JACKSON. 

Jackson was born in the northwestern corner of South CaroHna, in 1767. 
His father, an Irishman of Scotch descent, who had only two years before come 
to this country, died before his birth, leaving his mother almost utterly destitute, 
with the care of a large family. Nothing could exceed the trials and hardships 
of his youth. When he was only thirteen, the British ravaged South Carolina, 
killed his oldest brother, Hugh, and captured Andrew and his brother Robert, 
carrying them off with others to Camden, forty miles distant from their home. 
The captives were not allowed food or even water on the way ; they were thrown 
into a wretched prison-pen, without beds, medical attendance, or any means of 
dressing their wounds. They were kept on miserable food, and, to crown all, 
smallpo.K broke out among them. Dying and dead lay on the ground together. 

Their mother came to the rescue of her boys ; she obtained their exchange, 
took them home, and nursed them ; but Robert died in two daj^s, and Mrs. 
Jackson herself fell a victim to the disease. Thus at fourteen years of age 
Jackson was left alone in the world, without father, mother, or brother, and 
without a dollar to call his own. 

Before Andrew had fully recovered his strength, he entered a shop to learn 
the trade of a saddler; but he became a wild, reckless, lawless boy. He drank, 
gambled, fought cocks, and was regarded as about the worst character that 
could anywhere be found. Soon he began to think of a profession, and decided 
to study law. With a very slender purse, and on the back of a fine horse, he 
set out for Salisbury, N. C, a distance of about seventy-five miles, where he 
entered the law office of Mr. McCay. 

At the age of twenty Jackson was a tall young man, standing six feet and 
an inch in his stockings. He was very slender, but remarkably dignified and 
graceful in his manners, an exquisite horseman, and developing, amidst his pro- 
fanity and numerous vices, a vein of rare magnanimity. His temper was fiery 
in the extreme ; but it was said that no man knew better than Andrew Jackson 
when to get angry, and when not. He was fond of all rough adventures, wild 
rilling, camping out ; loved a horse passionately ; and, though sagacious and 
prudent, was bold in facing danger. The experience through which he had 
passed in the Revolution had made him a very stanch republican. 

LIFE IN THE WILDS OF TENNESSEE. 

The whole of that region which we now call Tennessee was then almost an 
unexplored wilderness. It was ranged by bands of Indians, who had been so 
outraged by vagabonds among the whites that they had become bitterly hostile. 
There was a small settlement of pioneers, five hundred miles west of the summit 
of the Alleghanies, near the present site of Nashville, on the banks of the Cum- 
berland. Andrew Jackson was appointed public prosecutor for the remote dis- 
trict of Nashville. It was an office of litde honor, small emolument, and great 



EMIGRATING TO TENNESSEE. 



133 



peril. Few men could be found to accept it. Early in the spring of 1788 
Jackson joined a party of emigrants, who rendezvoused at Morgantown, the 
last frontier settlement in North Carolina. They were all mounted on horse- 
back, with their baggage on pack-horses. In double file, the long cavalcade 
crossed the mountains by an Indian trail, which had widened into a road. 

Late in October, 1788, this long train of emigrants reached Nashville. 
They took with tliem the exciting news that the new Constitution had been 
accepted by a majority of the States, and that George Washington would 
undoubtedly be elected the first President. It was estimated that then, in this 
outpost of civilization, there were scattered, in log huts clustered along the 




A FAMILIAR KENTUCKY SCENE IN JACKSON'S YOUTH. 



banks of the Cumberland, about five thousand souls. The Indians were so 
active in their hostilities that it was not safe for any one to live far from the 
stockade. Every man took his rifle with him to the field. Children could not 
go out to gather berries unless accompanied by a guard. 

Nashville had its aristocracy. Mrs. Donelson belonged to one of the first 
families. She was the widow of Colonel John Donelson, and lived in a cabin of 
hewn logs, the most commodious dwelling in the place. She had a beautiful, 
mirth-loving daughter, who had married a very uncongenial Kentuckian, Lewis 
Robards, of whom but little that is good can be said. She and her husband 
lived with her widowed mother, and Andrew Jackson was received into the 



134 ANDREW JACKSON. 

family as a boarder. It was an attractive home for him. Of the gay and lively 
Mrs. Robards it is said that she was then the best story-teller, the best dancer, 
the sprightliest companion, the most dashing horsewoman, in the western 
country. 

And now Andrew Jackson commenced vigorously the practice of law. It 
was an important part of his business to collect debts. It required nerve. 
Many desperate men carried pistols and knives. During the first seven years 
of his residence in those wilds, he traversed the almost pathless forest between 
Nashville and Jonesborough, a distance of two hundred miles, twenty-two times. 
Hostile Indians were constantly on the watch, and a man was liable at any 
moment to be shot down in his own field. Andrew Jackson was just the man 
for this service, — a wild, rough, daring backwoodsman. Daily he was making 
hairbreadth escapes. He seemed to bear a charmed life. Boldly, alone or 
with few companions, he traversed the forests, encountering all perils, and 
triumphing over all. 

Mrs. Robards and her husband lived unhappily together. Before Jackson's 
arrival, he had once, from his jealous disposition, separated from her. Andrew 
Jackson was an exceedingly polite, gallant, fascinating man. Captain Robards 
became jealous of Jackson, and treated Mrs. Robards with great cruelty. Jack- 
son decided, in consequence, to leave the house, and took board in another 
place. Soon after this, Mr. and Mrs. Robards separated. The affair caused 
Andrew Jackson great uneasiness ; for though he knew that the parties had 
separated once before, and though conscious of innocence, he found himself to 
be the unfortunate cause of the present scandal. 

Captain Robards applied to the Legislature of Virginia for a bill of divorce. 
It was granted by an act of the Legislature, provided that the Supreme Court 
shoidd adjudge that there was cazise for such divorce. Robards laid aside this 
act and did nothing for two years. Virginia was far away. The transmission 
of intelligence was very slow. It was announced in Nashville that Robards had 
obtained a divorce. This was universally believed. Influenced by this belief, 
Andrew Jackson and Rachel Robards were married in the fall of 1791. 

Two years after this, Mr. and Mrs. Jackson learned, to their great surprise, 
that Robards had then only just obtained a divorce. Thus Mr. Jackson had, in 
reality, been married for two years to another man's wife, though neither he nor 
Mrs. Jackson had been guilty of the slightest intentional wrong. To remedy 
the irregularity as far as possible, a new license was obtained, and the marriage 
ceremony was again performed. 

It proved to be a marriage of rare felicity. Probably there never was a 
more affectionate union. However rough Mr. Jackson might have been abroad, 
he was always gende and tender at home ; and through all the vicissitudes of 
their lives, he treated Mrs. Jackson with the most chivalric attentions. He was 



SENATOR AND JUDGE. 135 

always very sensitive upon the question of his marriage. No one could breathe 
a word which reflected a suspicion upon the purity of this affair but at the risk 
of a bullet through his brain. 

OLD-FASHIONED POLITICS. 

In Januarj', 1796, the territory of Tennessee then containing nearly eighty 
thousand inhabitants, the people met in convention at Knoxville to frame a 
constitution. Five were sent from each of the eleven counties. Andrew 
Jackson was one of the delegates from Davidson County. They met in a shabby 
building in a grove outside of the city. It was fitted up for the occasion at an 
expense of twelve dollars and sixty-two cents. The members were entitled to 
two dollars and a half a day. They voted to receive but a dollar and a half, 
that the other dollar might go to the payment of secretary, printer, door- 
keeper, etc. A constitution was formed, which was regarded as very demo- 
cratic ; and in June, 1796, Tennessee became the sixteenth State in the Union. 
The new State was entitled to but one member in the national House of Repre- 
sentatives. Andrew Jackson was chosen that member. Mounting his horse, 
he rode to Philadelphia, where Congress then held its sessions, — a distance 
of eight hundred miles. 

A vacancy chanced soon after to occur in the Senate, and Andrew Jackson 
was chosen United States Senator by the State of Tennessee. John Adams 
was then President ; Thomas Jefferson, Vice-President. Many years after, when 
Mr. Jefferson had retired from the presidential chair, and Andrew Jackson was 
candidate for the presidency, Daniel Webster spent some days at the home of 
the sage of Monticello. He represents Mr. Jefferson as saying : — 

" I feel much alarmed at the prospect of seeing General Jackson President. 
He is one of the most unfit men I know of for such a place. He has very 
little respect for law or constitutions, and is, in fact, merely an able military 
chief His passions are terrible. When I was president of the Senate he was 
senator ; and he could never speak on account of the rashness of his feelings. 
I have seen him attempt it repeatedly, and as often choke with rage. His 
passions are no doubt cooler now. He has been much tried since I knew 
him ; but he is a dangerous man." 

In 1798 Mr. Jackson returned to Tennessee and resigned his seat in the 
Senate. Soon after he was chosen judge of the Supreme Court of that State, 
with a salary of six hundred dollars. This ofifice he held for six years. It 
is said that his decisions, though sometimes ungrammatical, were generally 
right. 

Judge Jackson did not enjoy his seat upon the bench, and renounced the 
dignity in the summer of 1804. About this time he decided to try his fortune 
through trade. He purchased a stock of goods in Philadelphia, sent them to 



\i : ' 



136 ANDREW JACKSON. 

Pittsburgh by wagon, down the Ohio to Louisville in flat-boats, thence by 
wagons or pack-horses to Nashville, where he opened a store. He lived about 
thirteen miles from Nashville, on a tract of land of several thousand acres, 
mosdy uncultivated. He used a small block-house for his store, from a narrow 
window of which he sold goods to the Indians. 

In Jackson's early life he fought numerous duels, and took part in brawls 
almost without number. One of the most notorious of his duels was one with 
Charles Dickenson, who was also a lawyer, and a dealer in country produce. 
Jackson challenged him and insisted upon an immediate fight. The meeting 
was appointed at seven o'clock in the morning of Friday, May 30, 1S06. Dick 
enson had a young and beautiful wife and an infant child, and was said to have 
been a very amiable man. They met in a grove. Dickenson got the first fire. 
His ball broke a rib, and glanced, leaving a bad but not dangerous wound. 
Jackson then took deliberate aim. Dickenson, appalled by the certain death 
which awaited him, recoiled a step or two. " Back to the inai'k, sir ! " shouted 
Jackson's second. The unhappy man took his stand. Again Jackson raised 
his pistol with calm, determined aim, and pulled the trigger. The pistol did 
not go off. He e.xamined it, and found that it had stopped at half-cock. Re- 
adjusting it, he again took cool, careful aim, and fired. Dickenson reeled and 
fell. The ball had passed through his body, just above the hips. Jackson 
and his party retired, leaving the dying man in the hands of his friends. All 
day long he suffered agony, and in the evening died. The next day his frantic 
wife, hurrying to his relief, met a wagon conveying back to Nashville his re- 
mains. Dickenson was a great favorite in Nashville, and his untimely death 
e.xcited profound sympathy. For a time this affair greatly injured General 
Jackson's popularity. If he ever felt any remorse, he never revealed it. 

General Jackson now withdrew from commercial pursuits, which he had not 
found very profitable, and devoted himself to the culture of his plantation. 
His home was a very happy one. Mrs. Jackson was an e.\cellent manager, and 
one of the most cheerful and entertaining of companions. She had a strong 
mind, much intelligence, but very little culture. They had no children, but 
adopted a son of one of Mrs. Jackson's sisters. This boy became the pride, 
the joy, the hope of the general's life. Soon after, he received another little 
nephew into his family, whom he nurtured and educated. It is said that this 
wonderfully irascible man was never even impatient with wife, children, ot 
servants. 

A young friend of Jackson, by the name of William Carroll, challenged 
Jesse Benton, a younger brother of Colonel Thomas H. Benton, to a duel. 
Jackson, then forty-.six years of age, somewhat reluctandy acted as second to 
Carroll. Both parties were wounded, young Benton quite severely. This 
roused the indignation of Colonel Thomas H. Benton, who had conferred some 



AFFRA Y WITH THE BENTONS. 



137 



signal favors on Jackson, and he vowed vengeance. Meeting the Benton 
brothers soon after at a Nashville hotel, a bloody affray followed, in which 
Jackson's arm and shoulder were horribly shattered by two balls and a sluo 




THE INDIAN S DECLARATION OF WAR, 



from the pistol of Jesse Benton. Jackson's 

wounds were very severe. While he was 

lingering, haggard and wan, upon a bed of suffering, news came that the Indians, 

who had combined under Tecumseh, from Florida to the Lakes, to exterminate 

the white settlers, were committing the most awful ravages. Decisive action 



, 38 ANDRE W J A CKSON. 

became necessary. General Jackson, with his fractured bones just be.crinning to 
heal, his arm in a sling, and unable to mount his horse without assistance, gave 
his amazing energies to the raising of an army to rendezvous at Fayetteville, 
on the borders of Alabama, on the 4th of October, 1 8 1 3. 

FIGHTING THE INDIANS. 

The Creek Indians had established a strong fort on one of the bends of the 
Tallapoosa River, near the centre of Alabama, about fifty miles below Fort 
Strother. With an army of two thousand men, General Jackson traversed the 
pathless wilderness in a march of eleven days. He reached their fort, called 
Tohopeka, or Horseshoe, on the 27th of March, 18 14. The bend of the river 
inclosed nearly one hundred acres of tangled forest and wild ravine. Across 
the narrow neck the Indians had constructed a formidable breastwork of logs 
and brush. Here nine hundred warriors, with an ample supply of arms and 
ammunition, were assembled. 

The fort was stormed. The fight was utterly desperate. Not an Indian 
would accept of quarter. When bleeding and dying, they would fight those 
who endeavored to spare their lives. From ten in the morning until dark the 
battle raged. Tiie carnage was awful and revolting. Some threw themselves 
into the river ; but the unerring bullet struck their heads as they swam. Nearly 
every one of the nine hundred warriors was killed. A few probably, in the 
night, swam the river and escaped. This ended the war. The power of the 
Creeks was broken forever. This bold plunge into the wilderness, with its ter- 
rific slaughter, so appalled the savages, that the haggard remnants of the bands 
came to the camp, begging for peace. 

This closing of the Creek war enabled us to concentrate our militia upon 
the British, who were the allies of the Indians. Immediately, on the 31st of 
May, Jackson was appointed major-general in the army of the United States. 
This gave him an income of between si.x and seven thousand dollars a year, and 
made him, for those times, a rich man. No man of less resolute will than Gen- 
eral Jackson could have conducted this Indian campaign to so successful an 
issue. Through the whole Indian campaign he suffered terribly from the wounds 
and debility occasioned by his senseless feud with Colonel Benton. He was 
pale and haggard and pain-worn, often enduring the extreme of agony. Not 
many men, suffering as he did, would have been out of the sick chamber. 

Immediately upon the fall of Napoleon, in 18 14, the British Cabinet decided 
to strike America a crushing blow. It was their plan to take New Orleans, lay 
all our seaport towns in ashes, annihilate our navy, and, by holding the Atlantic, 
the Mississippi, and the Lakes, to imprison us in our forests. The British were 
at Pensacola and Appalachicola, dispensing arms to the Indians in that region, 
and preparing for their grand naval and land expedition to New Orleans. Most 



DEFENSE OF NEW ORLEANS. 



139 



of the hostile Indians, flying from the tremendous blows which General Jackson 
had dealt them, had also taken refuge in Florida. Jackson, far away in the 
wilderness, was left to act almost without instructions. He decided to take 
the responsibility, and assumed the independence of a sovereign. 

The whole South and West were fully aroused to meet and repel the foe. 
By the ist of November General Jackson had in Mobile an army of four thou- 
sand men. He resolved to march upon Pensacola, where the Spaniards were 
sheltering our foes, and, as he expressed it, " rout out the English." He 
advanced upon Pensacola, stormed the town, took possession of every fort, and 
drove the British fleet out to sea. Garrisoning Mobile, he moved his troops to 
New Orleans, a distance of one hundred and seventy miles. General Jackson 
himself was so feeble that he could ride but seventeen miles a day. He reached 
New Orleans 
the 1st of De- 
cember. New 
Orleans at that 
time contained 
about twenty 
thousand in- 
habitants. Ev- 
ery available 
man in the 
place and coun- 
try near was 
brought into 
service. 

A British 
fleet of sixty 

snips, many 01 ^j.jg i^^_^ MARIGNY house, a relic of the war OV lt>12. 

them of the first 

class, and which had obtained renown in the naval conflicts of Trafalgar and the 
Nile, was assembled in a spacious bay on the western end of the Island of 
Jamaica. This fleet, which carried a thousand cannon, was manned by nearly 
nine thousand soldiers and marines, and transported a land force of ten thou- 
sand veteran soldiers, fresh from the wars of Europe, and flushed with victory 
over Napoleon. The fleet entered Lake Borgne, a shallow bay opening into 
the Gulf of Mexico near New Orleans, on the loth of December, 1814. There 
were five small cutters in the lake, which were soon overpowered by the im- 
mense force of the foe. Unaware how feeble was General Jackson's force, 
they did not deem it prudent to move upon the city until they had greatly 
increased their numbers. This delay probably saved New Orleans. 




140 ANDREW JACKSON. 

At two o'clock in the afternoon of the 23d, General Jackson learned that 
the foe, marching from Lake Borgne, were within a few miles of the city. He 
immediately collected his motley force of young farmers and mechanics, about 
two thousand in number, and marched to meet them. He fell upon them im- 
petuously in a night attack, checked their progress, and drove them back toward 
their landing-place. The British, surprised by the fury of the assault, waited 
for reinforcements, which came up in large numbers during the night. 

THE GREAT VICTORY AT NEW ORLEANS. 

' Pakenham, on the 28th, pushed his veteran battalions forward on a recon- 
noissance, and to sweep, if possible, over General Jackson's unfinished breast- 
work. It was a brilliant morning. Jackson, an old borrowed telescope in 
his hand, was on the watch. The solid columns of red-coats came on, in 
military array, as beautiful as awe-inspiring. The artillery led, heralding the 
advance with a shower of Congreve rockets, round shot, and shell. The 
muskets of the infantry flashed like mirrors in the light of the morning sun. 
The Britons were in high glee. It was absurd to suppose that a few thousand 
raw militia could resist the veterans who had conquered the armies of 
Napoleon. 

General Jackson had not quite three thousand men behind his breastwork ; 
but every one had imbibed the spirit of his chieftain. There were eight thou- 
sand veteran soldiers marching upon them. For a few hours there were the 
tumult, the horror, the carnage of a battle ; and then the British host seemed 
to have melted away. With shattered ranks, leaving their dead behind them, 
a second time they retreated. A third attack, on January ist, had the same 
result. 

On Friday, the 6th, General Jackson became assured that the enemy was 
preparing to attack him on both sides of the river. At half an hour before 
dawn, Sunday morning, January 8, 18 15, a rocket from the hostile lines gave 
the signal for the attack. In two solid columns, the British advanced upon our 
ramparts, which were bristling with infantry and artillery, and behind which 
General Jackson had now collected an army of about four thousand men, all 
inspired with the zeal of their commander. 

Our men were well protected. With bare bosoms, the British marched 
upon the embankment, from which there was poured forth an incessant storm of 
bullets, balls, and shells, which no flesh and blood could stand. It was one of 
the most awful scenes of slaughter which was ever witnessed. Every bullet 
accomplished its mission, spending its force in the bodies of those who were 
insanely driven forward to inevitable death. Two hundred men were cut down 
by one discharge of a thirty-two pounder, loaded to the muzzle with musket- 
balls, and poured into the head of a column at the distance of but a few yards. 



A SPLENDID VICTORY. 



141 



Regiments vanished, a British officer said, "as if the earth had opened and 
swallowed them up." The American line looked like a row of fiery furnaces. 
General Jackson walked slowly along his ranks, cheering his men, and saying: — 

" Stand to your guns ! Don't waste your ammunition ! See that every 
shot tells ! Let us finish the business to-day ! " 

Two hours passed, and the work was done, — effectually done. As the 
smoke lifted, the whole proud array had disappeared. The ground was so 




AN INDIAN FIGHT IN FLORIDA. 



covered with the dying and the dead, that, for a quarter of a mile in front, one 
might walk upon their bodies ; and, far away in the distance, the retreating lines 
of the foe were to be seen. On both sides of the river the enemy was repulsed. 

The British had about nine thousand in the engagement, and we but 
about four thousand. Their loss in killed and wounded was two thousand six 
hundred, while ours was but thirteen. Thus ended the great battle of New 
Orleans. 

In those days intelligence traveled so slowly that it was not until the 4th of 
9 



142 



ANDREW J A CKSON. 



Februarj' that tidings of the victory reached Washington. The whole country 
blazed with illuminations, and rang with rejoicings. Ten days after this, news 
of the Treaty of Ghent was received, signed before the battle took place. 

Jackson now returned to Nashville, and honors were poured on him with- 
out number. He still retained his command of the southern division of the 
army. The Seminole Indians in Florida were committing outrages upon our 
frontiers. General Jackson gathered an army of over two thousand men, and, 
regardless of treaties, marched into Florida, punished the Indians severely, 
attacked a Spanish post, shot by court-martial a Scotchman, and hung an 

Englishman accused of inciting 
the Indians to insurrection. His 
energy, and disregard of treaties 
and the forms of law, were de- 
nounced by one party and com- 
mended by another. He was, 
however, sustained by Congress 
and the President ; and, after the 
purchase of Florida from Spain, 
General Jackson was appointed 
governor of the newly acquired 
territory. 

SENATOR AND PRESIDENT. 

For some reason he soon 
became tired of his office, and, 
resigning it, again retired to his 
farm and his humble home in 
Tennessee. His name soon be- 
gan to be brought forward as 
that of a candidate for the presi- 
dency of the United States. In 
the autumn of 1823 he was elected, by the Tennessee Legislature, United 
States Senator. In the stormy electoral canvass of 1824, which resulted in 
the choice of John Ouincy Adams by the House of Representatives, General 
Jackson received a larger number of electoral votes than either of his com- 
petitors. The Democratic party now with great unanimity fi.xed upon him to 
succeed Mr. Adams. In the campaign of 1828 he was triumphantly elected 
President of the United States. In 1829, just before he assumed the reins of 
government, he met with the most terrible affliction of his life in the death of 
his wife, whom he had loved with devotion which has perhaps never been sur- 
passed. From the shock of her death he never recovered. 




MARTIN VAN IIURF.N. 



RETIREMENT AND DEATH. 143 

He ever afterward appeared like a changed man. He became subdued 
in spirit, and, except when his terrible temper had been greatly aroused, seldom .^ 
used profane language. It is said that every night afterward, until his own 
death, he read a prayer from his wife's prayer-book, with her miniature likeness 
before him. 

His administration was one of the most memorable in the annals of our 
country ; applauded by one party, condemned by the other. No man had more 
bitter enemies or warmer friends. It is, however, undeniable that many of the 
acts of, his administration, which were at the time most unsparingly denounced, 
are now generally commended. With all his glaring faults, he was a sincere 
patriot, honestly seeking the good of his country. With the masses of the 
people, Andrew Jackson was the most popular President, with possibly the 
exceptions of Washington and Lincoln, who ever occupied the chair. At the 
expiration of his two terms of office, he retired, in 1837, to the " Hermitage," 
his Tennessee home, resigning his office at Washington to his friend and sup- 
porter, Martin Van Buren. 

His sufferings from sickness during the last years of his life were dreadful ; 
but he bore them with the greatest fortitude, never uttering a complaining word. 
On Sunday morning, June 8th, 1845, it was seen that his last hour had come. 
He assembled all his family around him, and, in the most affecting manner, took 
leave of each one. "He then," writes one who was present, "delivered one 
of the most impressive lectures on the subject of religion that I have ever 
heard. He spoke for nearly half an hour, and apparently with the power of 
inspiration." Soon after this he suddenly, and without a struggle, ceased to 
breathe. Two days after he was placed in a grave by the side of his wife. He 
had often said, " Heaven will be no heaven to me if I do not meet my wife 
there." 




THE SECOND WAR FOR IMDEPENDENCE. OR THE ^?VA.R 

OE 1812. 

their first war with Great Britain our forefathers asserted and 
maintained their right to. independent national existence; by 
their second war with Great Britain, they claimed and obtained 
equal consideration in international affairs. The War of 1812 
was not based on a single cause ; it was rather undertaken from 
mixed motives, — pardy political, partly commercial, partly pa- 
triotic. It was always unpopular with a great number of the 
American people ; it was far from logical in some of its posi- 
tions ; it was perhaps precipitated by party clamor. But, despite all these facts, 
it remains true that this war established once for all the position of the United 
States as an equal power among the powers. Above all — clearing away the 
petty political and partisan aspects of the struggle — we find that in it the United 
States stood for a strong, sound, and universally beneficial principle — that of the 
rights of neutral nations in time of war. "Free ships make free goods" is a 
maxim of international law now universally recognized, but at the opening of the. 
century it was a theory, supported, indeed, by good reasoning, but practically 
disregarded by the most powerful nations. It was almost solely to the stand taken 
by the United States in 18 12 that the final settlement of the disputed principle 
was due. 

The cause of the War of 181 2 which appealed most strongly to the patriotic 
feelings of the common people, though, perhaps, not in itself so intrinsically im- 
portant as that just referred to, was unquestionably the impressment by Great 
Britain of sailors from American ships. No doubt great numbers of English 
sailors did desert from their naval vessels and take refuse in the easier service 
and better treatment of the American merchant ships. Great Britain was strain- 
ing every nerve to strengthen her already powerful navy, and the press-gang 
was constandy at work in English sea-ports. Once on board a Bridsh man-of- 
war, the impressed sailor was subject to overwork, bad radons, and the lash. 
That British sailors fought as gallandy as they did under this regime will always 
remain a wonder. But it is certain that they deserted in considerable numbers, 

144 



THE "CHESAPEAKE" OUTRAGE. I45 

and that they found in the rapidly-growing commercial prosperity of our carry- 
ing trade a tempting chance of employment. Now, Great Britain, with a large 
contempt for the naval weakness of the United States, assumed, rather than 
claimed, the right to stop our merchant vessels on the high seas, to examine the 
crews, and to claim as her own any British sailors among them. This was bad 
enough in itself, but the way in which the search was carried out was worse. 
Every form of insolence and overbearing was exhibited. The pretense of claim- 
ing British deserters covered what was sometimes barefaced and outrageous 
kidnaping of Americans. The British officers ivent so far as to lay the burden of 
proof of nationality in each case upon the sailor himself; if he were without 
papers proving his identity he was at once assumed to be a British subject. To 
such an extent was this insult to our flag carried that our Government had the 
record of about forty-five hundred cases of impressment from our ships between 
the years of 1803 and 1810; and when the War of 181 2 broke out the number 
of American sailors serving against their will in British war vessels was variously 
computed to be from six to fourteen thousand. It is even recorded that in some 
cases American ships were obliged to return home in the middle of their voyages 
because their crews had been so diminished in number by the seizures made by 
British officers that they were too short-handed to proceed. In not a few cases 
these depredations led to bloodshed. The greatest outrage of all, and one which 
stirred the blood of Americans to the fighting point, was the capture of an Ameri- 
can war vessel, the "Chesapeake," by the British man-of-war, the "Leopard." 
The latter was by far the more powerful vessel, and the " Chesapeake " was quite 
unprepared for action ; nevertheless, her commander refused to accede to a 
demand that his crew be overhauled in search for British deserters. Thereupon 
the "Leopard" poured broadside after broadside into her until the flag was 
struck. Three Americans were killed and eighteen wounded ; four were taken 
away as alleged deserters; of these, three were afterwards returned, while in 
one case the charge was satisfactorily proved and the man Avas hanged. The 
whole affair was without the slightest justification under the law of nations and 
was in itself ample ground for war. Great Britain, however, in a quite ungrace- 
ful and tardy way, apologized and oftered reparation. This incident took place 
six years before the actual declaration of war. But the outrage rankled all that 
time, and nothing did more to fan the anti- British feeling which was already so 
strong in the rank and file, especially in the Democratic (or, as it was often called 
then. Republican) party. It was such deeds as this that led Henry Clay to 
exclaim, " Not content with seizing upon all our property which falls within 
her rapacious grasp, the personal rights of our countrymen — rights which must 
forever be sacred — are trampled on and violated by the impressment of our 
seamen. What are we to gain by war ? What are we not to lose by peace ? 
Commerce, character, a nation's best treasure, honor! " 



146 



STORY OF THE WAR OF 18 12. 



The attack on American commerce was also a serious danger to peace. In 
the early years of the century Great Britain was at war not only with France, 
but with other European countries. Both Great Britain and France adopted in 
practice the most extreme theories of non-intercourse between neutral and 
hostile nations. It was the era of "paper blockades." In 1806 England, for 
instance, declared that eight hundred miles of the European coast were to be 




VIEW Ot A CunoN-CHUTE. 



considered blockaded, whereupon Napoleon, not to be outdone, declared the 
entire Islands of Great Britain to be under blockade. Up to a certain point the 
interruption of the neutral trade relations between the countries of Europe was 
to the commercial advantage of America. Our carrying trade grew and pros- 
pered wonderfully. Much of this trade consisted in taking goods from the colo- 
nies of European nations, bringing them to the United States, then trans-ship- 
ping them and conveying them to the parent nation. This was allowable under 



DESTRUCTION OF COMMERCE. 147 

the international law of the time, although the direct carrying of goods by the 
neutral ship from the colony to the parent nation (the latter, of course, being at 
war) was forbidden. But by her famous " Orders in Council " Great Britain ab- 
solutely forbade this system of trans-shipment as to nations with whom she was 
at war. American vessels engaged in this form of trade were seized and con- 
demned by English prize courts. Naturally, France followed Great Britain's 
example and even went further. Our merchants, who had actually been earning 
double freights under the old system, now found that their commerce was wofully 
restricted. At first it was thought that the unfair restriction might be punished 
by retaliatory measures, and a quite illogical analogy was drawn from the effect 
produced on Great Britain before the Revolution by the refusal of the colonies 
to receive goods on which a tax had been imposed. So President Jefferson's 
Administration resorted to the most unwise measure that could be thought of — 
an absolute embargo on our own ships. This measure was passed in 1807, and 
its immediate result was to reduce the exports of the country from nearly fifty 
million dollars' worth to nine million dollars' worth in a single year. This was 
evidently anything but profitable, and the act was changed so as to forbid only 
commercial intercourse wjth Great Britain and France and their colonies, with a 
proviso that the law should be abandoned as regards either of these countries 
which should repeal its objectionable decrees. The French Government moved 
in the matter first, but only conditionally. Our non-intercourse act, however, 
was after 1810 in force only against Great Britain. That our claims of wrong 
were equally or nearly equally as great against France in this matter cannot be 
doubted. But the popular feeling was stronger against Great Britain ; a war 
with England was popular with the mass of the Democrats ; and it was the 
refusal of England to finally accept our conditions which led to the declaration 
of war. By a curious chain of circumstances it happened, however, that between 
the time when Congress declared war (June 18, 181 2) and the date when the 
news of this declaration was received in England, the latter country had already 
revoked her famous "orders in council." In point of fact, President Madison 
was very reluctant to declare war, though the Federalists always took o-reat 
pleasure in speaking of this as " Mr. Madison's war." The Federalists through- 
out considered the war unnecessary and the result of partisan feeling and un- 
reasonable prejudice. 

It is peculiarly grateful to American pride that this war, undertaken in 
defense of our maritime interests and to uphold the honor of our flag upon 
the high seas, resulted in a series of naval victories brilliant in the extreme. It 
was not, indeed, at first thought that this would be chiefly a naval war. Presi- 
dent Madison was at one time greatly inclined to keep strictly in port our war 
vessels ; but, happily, other counsels prevailed. The disparity between the Amer- 
ican and British navies was certainly disheartening. The United States had 



148 



STORY OF THE WAR OF i8t2. 



seven or eight frigates and a few sloops, brigs, and gunboats, while the sails of 
England's navy whitened every sea, and her ships certainly outnumbered ours 
by fifty to one. On the other hand, her hands were tied to a great extent by the 
European wars of magnitude in which she was involved. She had to defend her 
commerce from formidable enemies in many seas, and could give but a small 
part of her naval strength to the new foe. That this new foe was despised by 




LOADING A COTTON STEAMER. 

the great power which claimed, not without reason, to be the mistress of the seas 
was not unnatural. But soon we find a lament raised in Parliament about the 
reverses, " which English officers and English sailors had not before been used 
to, and that from such a contemptible navy as that of America had always been 
held." The fact is that the restriction of our commerce had made it possible for 
our navy officers to take their pick of a remarkably fine body of native American 
seamen, naturally brave and intelligent, and thoroughly well trained in all sea- 



WAR ON THE CANADA FRONTIER. 149 

manlike experiences. Tliese men were in many instances filled with a spirit of 
resentment at British insolence, having either themselves been the victims of the 
aggressions which we have described, or having seen their friends compelled to 
submit to these insolent acts. The very smallness of our navy, too, was in a 
measure its strength ; the competition for active service among those bearing 
commissions was great, and there was never any trouble in finding officers of 
proved sagacity and courage. 

At the outset, however, the policy determined on by the Administration was 
not one of naval aesfression. It was decided to attack Ensjland from her 
Canadian colonies. This plan of campaign, however reasonable it might seem 
to a strategist, failed wretchedly in execution. The first year of the war, so far 
as regards the land campaigns, showed nothing but reverses and fiascoes. 
There was a long and thinly settled border country, in which our slender forces 
struggled to hold their own against the barbarous Indian onslaughts, making 
futile expeditions across the border into Canada and resisting with some success 
the similar expeditions by the Canadian troops. It was one of the complaints 
which led to the war that the Indian tribes had been incited against our settlers 
by the Canadian authorities and had been promised aid from Canada. It is 
certain that after war was declared English officers not only employed Indians as 
their allies, but in some instances, at least, paid bounties for the scalps of 
American setders. The Indian war planned by Tecumseh had just been put 
down by General, afterward President, Harrison. No doubt Tecumseh was a 
man of more elevated ambition and more humane instincts than one often finds in 
an Indian chief His hope to unite the tribes and to drive the whites out of his 
country has a certain nobility of purpose and breadth of view. But this scheme 
had failed, and the Indian warriors, still inflamed for war, were only too eager to 
assist the Canadian forces in a desultory but bloody border war. The strength 
of our campaign against Canada was dissipated in an attempt to hold Fort 
Wayne, Fort Harrison, and other garrisons against Indian attacks. Still more 
disappointing was the complete failure of the attempt, under the command of 
General Hull, to advance from Detroit as an outpost, into Canada. He was 
easily driven back to Detroit, and when the nation was confidently waiting to 
hear of a bold defense of that place it was startled by the news of Hull's surrender 
without firing a gun, and under circumstances which seemed to indicate either 
cowardice or treachery. Hull was, in fact, court-martialed, condemned to death, 
and only pardoned on account of his services in the war of 1776. 

The mortification that followed the land campaign of 1 8 1 2 was forgotten in 
joy at the splendid naval victories of that year. Pre-eminent among these was 
the famous sea-duel between the frigates '-Constitution" and "Guerriere." 
Every one knows of the glory of " Old Ironsides," and this, though the greatest, 
was only one of many victories by which the name of the " Consdtution " 



ISO 



STORY OF THE WAR OF 1S12. 



became the most famed and beloved of all that have been associated with Amer- 
ican ships. She was a fine frigate, carrying forty-four guns, and though English 
journals had ridiculed her as "a bunch 
of pine boards under a bit of striped 

bunting," it was not long before they ' 

were busily engaged in tr>'ing to prove 
that she was too large a vessel to be prop- 
erly called a frigate, and that she greatly 
out-classed her opponent in metal and 




men. It is true that the 
•' Constitution " carried six 
more guns and a few more 
men than the " Guerri^re," 
but, all allowances being 
made, her victory was yet 
a naval triumph of the first 
magnitude. Captain Isaac 
Hull, who commanded her, 
had just before the engage- 
ment proved his superior 
seamanship by escaping from a whole squadron of British vessels, out-sailing 
and out-manoeuvring them at every point. It was on August 19 when he 



OUR VICTORIES AT SEA. 151 

descried the " Guerriere." Both vessels at once cleared for action and 
came together with the greatest eagerness on both sides for the engagement. 
Though the battle lasted but half an hour, it was one of the hottest in naval 
annals. At one time the " Constitution " was on fire, and both ships were soon 
seriously crippled by injury to their spars. Attempts to board each other were 
thwarted on both sides by the close fire of small arms. Here, as in later sea- 
fights of this war, the accuracy and skill of the American gunners were some- 
thing marvelous. At the end of half an hour the "Guerriere" had lost both 
mainmast and foremast and floated helplessly in the open sea. Her surrender 
was no discredit to her officers, as she was almost in a sinkine condition. It was 
hopeless to attempt to tow her into port, and Captain Hull transferred his 
prisoners to his own vessel and set fire to his prize. In the fight the American 
frigate had only seven men killed and an equal number wounded, while the 
British vessel had as many as seventy-nine men killed or wounded. The con- 
duct of the American seamen was throughout gallant in the highest degree. 
Captain Hull put it on record that " From the smallest boy in the ship to the 
oldest seaman not a look of fear was seen. They all went into action giving 
three cheers and requesting to be laid close alongside the enemy." The effect 
of this victory in both America and England was extraordinary. English papers 
long refused to believe in the possibility of the well-proved facts, while in America 
the whole country joined in a triumphal shout of joy, and loaded well-deserved 
honors on vessel, captain, officers, and men. 

The chagrin of the English public at the unexpected result of this sea battle 
was changed to amazement when one alter another there followed no less than 
six combats of the same duel-like character, in which the American vessels were 
invariably victorious. The first was between our sloop, the "Wasp," and the 
English brig, the " Frolic," which was convoying a fleet of merchantmen. The 
fight was one of the most desperate in the war; the two ships were brought so 
close together that their gunners could touch the sides of the opposing vessels 
with their rammers. Broadside after broadside was poured into the " Frolic" by 
the "Wasp," which obtained the superior position, but her sailors, unable to 
await the victory which was sure to come from the continued raking of the 
enemy's vessel, rushed upon her decks without orders and soon overpowered 
her. Again the British loss in killed and wounded was large ; that of the Ameri- 
cans very small. It in no wise detracted from the glory of this victory that both 
victor and prize were soon captured by a British man-of-war of immensely supe- 
rior strength. Following this action, Commodore Stephen Decatur, in our frigate, 
the " United States," attacked the " Macedonian," a British vessel of the same kind, 
and easily defeated her, bringing her into New York harbor on New Year's Day, 
1 8 13, where he received an ovation equal to that offered Captain Hull. The 
same result followed the attack of the " Constitution," now under the command 



152 



STORY OF THE WAR OF 1812. 



of Commodore Bain- 
"Java;" the latter had her 
about one hundred wound- 
that it was decided to blow 
tion" suffered so little that 
Ironsides," a name now 
been in every school-boy's 
resulted, in the great ma- 
jority of cases in the same 
way — in all unstinted 
praise was awarded by the 



bridge, upon the English 
captain and fifty men killed and 
ed, and was left such a wreck 
her up, while the " Constitu- 
she was in sport dubbed " Old 
ennobled by a poem which has 
mouth. Other naval combats 




STATUE OF COMMODORE PERRY. 

whole world, even including 
England herself, to the admira- 
ble seamanship, the wonderful 
gunnery, and the constant per- 
sonal intrepitude of our naval 
forces. When the second year 
of the war closed our little navy 



J 



EXPLOITS OF PRIVATEERS. 153 

had captured twenty-six war-ships, armed with 560 guns, while it had lost only 
seven ships, carrying 1 19 guns. 

But, if the highest honors of the war were thus won by our navy, the 
most serious injury materially to Great Britain was in the devastation of her 
commerce by American privateers. No less than two hundred and fifty 
of these sea guerrillas were afloat, and in the first year of the war they 
captured over three hundred merchant vessels, sometimes even attacking 
and overcoming the smaller class of war-ships. The privateers were usually 
schooners armed with a few small guns, but carrying one long cannon 
mounted on a swivel so that it could be turned to any point of the horizon, 
and familiarly known as Long Tom. Of course, the crews were influenced 
by greed as well as by patriotism. Privateering is a somewhat doubtful 
mode of warfare at the best ; but international law permits it ; and though 
it is hard to dissociate from it a certain odor, as of legalized piracy, it is 
legitimate to this day. And surely if it were ever justifiable it was at that 
time. As Jefferson said, there were then tens of thousands of seamen 
forced by war from their natural means of support and useless to their 
country in any other way, while by " licensing private armed vessels the whole 
naval force of the nation was truly brought to bear on the foe." The havoc 
wrought on British trade was widespread indeed ; altogether between fifteen 
hundred and two thousand prizes were taken by the privateers. To compute 
the value of these prizes is impossible, but some idea may be gained from 
the single fact that one privateer, the " Yankee," in a cruise of less than 
two months captured five brigs and four schooners with cargoes valued at 
over half a million dollars. The men engaged in this form of warfare were 
bold to recklessness, and their exploits have furnished many a tale to Ameri- 
can writers of romance. 

The naval combats thus far mentioned were almost always of single vessels. 
For battles of fl.eets we must turn from the salt water to the fresh, from the 
ocean to the great lakes. The control of the waters of Lake Erie, Lake Onta- 
rio, and Lake Champlain was obviously of vast importance, in view of the con- 
tinued land-fighting in the West and of the attempted invasion of Canada and 
the threatened counter-invasions. The British had the great advantage of being 
able to reach the lakes by the St. Lawrence, while our lake navies had to be con- 
structed after the war began. One such little navy had been built at Presque 
Isle, now Erie, on Lake Erie. It comprised two brigs of twenty guns and sev- 
eral schooners and gunboats. It must be remembered that everything but the 
lumber needed for the vessels had to be brought through the forests by land 
from the eastern seaports, and the mere problem of transportation was a serious 
one. When finished, the fleet was put in command of Oliver Hazard Perry. 
Watching his time (and, it is said, taking advantage of the carelessness of the 



154 



STORY OF THE WAR OF 1S12. 



British commander in going on shore to dinner one Sunday, when he should 
have been watching Perry's movements), the American commander drew his 
fleet over the bar which had protected it while in harbor from the onslaughts of 
the British fleet. To get the brigs over this bar was a work of time and great 
difficulty; an attack at that hour by the British would certainly have ended in 
the total destruction of the fleet. Once accomplished, Perry, in his flagship, the 
" Lawrence," headed a fleet often vessels, fifty-five guns, and four hundred men. 
Opposed to him was Captain Barclay with six ships, sixty-five guns, and also 





VIEW ON LAKE ONTARIO. 



about four hundred men. The British for several weeks avoided the conflict, 
but in the end were cornered and forced to fight. It was at the beginning of 
this battle that Perry displayed the flag bearing Lawrence's famous dying 
words, " Don't give up the ship ! " No less famous is his dispatch announcing 
the result in the words, " We have met the enemy and they are ours." The 
victory was indeed a complete and decisive one ; all si.x of the enemy's ships 
were captured, and their loss was nearly double that of Perry's forces. The 
complete control of Lake Erie was assured; that of Lake Ontario had already 
been gained by Commodore Chauncey. , 



BATTLE OF THE THAMES. I5S 

Perry's memorable victory opened the way for important land operations by 
General Harrison, who now marched from Detroit with the design of invading 
Canada. He engaged with Proctor's mingled body of British troops and Indians, 
and by the Battle of the Thames drove back the British from that part of Canada 
and restored matters to the position in which they stood before Hull's deplorable 
surrender of Detroit — and, indeed, of all Michigan — to the Bridsh. In this battle 
of the Thames the Indian chief, Tecumseh, fell, and about three hundred of the 
British and Indians were killed on the field. The hold of our enemies on the 
Indian tribes was greatly broken by this defeat. Previous to this the land cam- 
paigns had been marked by a succession of minor victories and defeats. In the 
West a force of Americans under General Winchester had been captured at the 
River Raisin ; and there took place an atrocious massacre of large numbers of 
prisoners by the Indians, who were quite beyond restraint from their white allies. 
On the other hand, the Americans had captured the city of York, now Toronto, 
though at the cost of their leader, General Pike, who, with two hundred of his 
men, was destroyed by the explosion of a magazine. Fort George had also been 
captured by the Americans and an attack on Sackett's Harbor had been gal- 
lantly repulsed. Following the battle of the Thames, extensive operations of 
an aggressive kind had been planned looking toward the capture of Montreal 
and the invasion of Canada by way of Lakes Ontario and Champlain. Un- 
happily, jealousy between the American Generals Wilkinson and Hampton 
resulted in a lack of concert in their military operations, and the expedition 
was a complete fiasco. 

One turns for consoladon from the mortifying record of Wilkinson's ex- 
pedition to the story of the continuous successes which had accompanied the 
naval operations of 1813. Captain Lawrence, in the " Hornet," won a complete 
victory over the English brig " Peacock ;" our brig, the " Enterprise," captured the 
"Boxer," and other equally welcome victories were reported. One distinct 
defeat had marred the record — that of our fine brig, the "Chesapeake," com- 
manded by Captain Lawrence, which had been captured after one of the most 
hard-fought contests of the war by the British brig, the " Shannon." Lawrence 
himself fell mortally wounded, exclaiming as he was carried away, "Tell the men 
not to give up the ship but fight her dll she sinks." It was a paraphrase of this 
exclamadon which Perry used as a rallying signal in the batde on Lake Erie. 
Despite his one defeat, Captain Lawrence's fame as a gallant seaman and high- 
minded patriot was untarnished, and his death was more deplored throughout 
the country than was the loss of his ship. 

In the latter part of the war England was enabled to send large reinforce- 
ments both to her army and navy engaged in the American campaigns. Events 
in Europe seemed in 1 8 1 4 to insure peace for at least a time. Napoleon's power 
was broken ; the Emperor himself was exiled at Elba ; and Great Britain at last 



156 



STORY OF THE WAR OF 1S12. 



had her hands free. But before the reinforcements reached this country, our 
army had won greater credit and had shown more military skill by far than were 
evinced in its earlier operations. 



Along the line of the Niagara River active 




WEATHERSFORD AND GENERAL JACKSON. 



fighting had been going on. In the battle of Chippewa, the capture of Fort Erie, 
the engagement at Lundy's Lane, and the defense of Fort Erie the troops, under 
the command of Winfield Scott and General Brown, had held their own, and more, 
against superior forces, and had won from Bridsh officers the admission that they 

1 



THE BURNING OF WASHINGTON. 157 

fought as well under fire as regular troops. More encouraging still was the 
total defeat of the plan of invasion from Canada undertaken by the now greatly 
strengthened British forces. These numbered twelve thousand men and were 
supported by a fleet on Lake Champlain. • Their operations were directed against 
Plattsburg, and in the battle on the lake, usually called by the name of that town, 
the American flotilla under the command of Commodore Macdonough completely 
routed the British fleet. As' a result the English army also beat a rapid and 
undignified retreat to Canada. This was the last important engagement to take 
place in the North. 

Meanwhile expeditions of considerable size were directed by the British 
against our principal Southern cities. One of these brought General Ross with 
five thousand men, chiefly the pick of the Duke of Wellington's army, into the 
Bay of Chesapeake. Nothing was more discreditable in the military strategy of 
our Administration than the fact that at this time Washington was left unprotected, 
though in evident danger. General Ross marched straight upon the Capital, 
easily defeated at Bladensburg an inferior force of raw militia — who yet fought 
with intrepidity for the most part — seized the city, and carried out his intention of 
destroying the public buildings and a great part of the town. Most of the public 
archives had been removed. Ross' conduct in the burningf of Washinsfton was 
probably within the limits of legitimate warfare but has been condemned as semi- 
barbarous by many writers. The achievement gave great joy to the English 
papers, but was really of less importance than was supposed. Washington at 
that time was a straggling town of ovtly eight thousand inhabitants ; its public 
buildings were not at all adequate to the demands of the future ; and an optimist 
might even consider the destruction of the old city as a public benefit, for it 
enabled Congress to adopt the plans which have since led to the making of 
perhaps the most beautiful city of the country. 

A similar attempt upon Baltimore was less successful. The people of that 
city made a brave defense and hastily threw up extensive fortifications. In the 
end the British fleet, after a severe bombardment of Fort McHenry, were driven 
off. The British Admiral had boasted that Fort McHenry would yield in a few 
hours ; and two days after, when its flag was still flying, Francis S. Key was in- 
spired by its sight to compose the "Star Spangled Banner." 

A still larger expedition of British troops landed on the Louisiana coast 
and marched to the attack of New Orleans. Here General Andrew Jackson 
was in command. He had already distinguished himself in this war by putting 
down with a strong hand the hostile Creek Indians of the then Spanish territory 
of Florida, who had been incited by English envoys to warfare against our 
Southern settlers; and in April, 1814, William Weathersford, the half-breed 
chief, had surrendered in person to Jackson (see illustration). General 
Packenham, who commanded the five thousand British soldiers sent against 



IS8 STORY OF THE WAR OF 1812. 

New Orleans, expected as easy a victory as that of General Ross at Washington. 
But Jackson had summoned to his aid the stalwart frontiersmen of Kentucky 
and Tennessee — men used from boyhood to the rifle, and who made up 
what was in effect a splendid force of sharp-shooters. Both armies threw up 
rough fortifications ; General Jackson made great use for that purpose of cotton 
bales, Packenham employing the still less solid material of sugar barrels. 
Oddly enough, the final battle, and really the most important of the war, took 
place after the treaty of peace between the two countries had already been 
signed. The British were repulsed again and again in persistent and gallant 
attacks on our fortifications. General Packenham himself was killed, together 
with many officers and seven hundred of his men. One British officer pushed to 
the top of our earthworks and demanded their surrender, whereupon he was 
smilingly asked to look behind him, and turning saw, as he afterward said, that 
the men he supposed to be supporting him " had vanished as if the earth had 
swallowed them up." The American losses were inconsiderable. 

The treaty of peace, signed at Ghent, December 24, 18 14, has been ridiculed 
because it contained no positive agreement as to many of the questions in dis- 
pute. Not a word did it say about the impressment of American sailors or the 
rights of neutral ships. Its chief stipulations were the mutual restoration of ter- 
ritory and the appointing of a commission to determine our northern boundary 
line. The truth is that both nations were tired of the war ; the circumstances 
that had led to England's aggressions no longer existed ; both countries were 
suffering enormous commercial loss to no avail ; and, above all, the United States 
had emphatically justified by its deeds its claim to an equal place in the council 
of nations. Politically and materially, further warfare was illogical. If the two 
nations had understood each other better in the first place ; if Great Britain had 
treated our demands with courtesy and justice instead of insolence ; if, in short, 
international comity had taken the place of international ill-temper, the war might 
have been avoided altogether. Its undoubted benefits to us were incidental 
rather than direct. But though not formally recognized by treaty, the rights of 
American seamen and of American ships were in fact no longer infringed upon 
by Great Britain. 



I 




JOHN QUINCY ADAMS, 



THE ACCOMPLISHED I^RESIDENT, AND GREAT 
DEFENDER OE THE RIGHT OE PETITION. 




'MERICA is the land of self-made men. Many of the 
greatest statesmen of this republic have been men who, 
from the deepest poverty and obscurity, rose step by step 
to the highest eminence. To such lives the career of 
John Ouincy Adams forms a curious contrast. He was 
the son of a great statesman, and trained in politics and 
diplomacy from earliest youth. He was educated in the 
best schools of America and Europe. So early were his 
abilities developed, that when he was a mere boy they attracted 
the attention of Washington ; and from that time until the day 
when, half a century later, death found him at his post, he was equal 
to every duty, prepared for every station. He went steadily on, up to 
the highest office in the nation's gift ; but his unique fame was won, not 
in his presidency, but in the humbler post which he afterward took in the House 
of Representatives. There, for seventeen years, through evil and good report, 
he stood, always at his post, maintaining the sacred right of petition, and plead- 
ing the cause of the poor and oppressed. 

Almost the whole life of John Ouincy Adams was passed amid the "storms 

i6i 



,62 JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 

of state." When but eight years of age he stood with his mother upon an 
eminence, listening to the booming of the great battle on Bunker's Hill, and 
gazing upon the smoke and flame billowing up from the conflagration of Charles- 
town. Often, during the siege of Boston, he watched the shells thrown day and 
night by the combatants. When but eleven years old he took a tearful adieu 
of his mother and was rowed out in a small boat to a ship anchored in the bay, to 
sail with his father for Europe through a fleet of hostile British cruisers. His 
father, John Adams, was associated with Franklin and Lee as minister plenipo- 
tentiary at Paris. The boy's intelligence attracted the notice of these distin- 
guished men, and he received from them flattering marks of attention. 

John Adams had scarcely returned to this country in 1779 ere he was again 
sent abroad, empowered to negotiate a treaty of peace with England whenever 
England should be disposed to end the war. Again John Ouincy Adams accom- 
panied his father. On this voyage he commenced a diary, noting down the 
remarkable events of each day ; which practice he continued, with but few inter- 
ruptions, until his death. At Paris he applied himself with great diligence, for 
si.K months, to study ; then accompanied his father to Holland, where he 
entered, first a school in Amsterdam, and then the University of Leyden. In 
1 78 1, when but fourteen years of age, he was selected by Mr. Dana, our minis- 
ter to the Russian court, as his private secretary. 

In this school of incessant labor and culture he spent fourteen months, and 
then returned to Holland throuffh Sweden, Denmark, Hamburg, and Bremen. 
This long journey he took alone, in the winter, when in his sixteenth year. 
Again he resumed his studies, under a private tutor, at the Hague. Thence, 
in the spring of 1782, he accompanied his father to Paris, traveling leisurely, j 
and forming acquaintances with the most distinguished men on the continent. 
At Paris he again became the associate of the most illustrious men of all lands. 
After a short visit to England, he returned to Paris, and consecrated all his 
energies to study until May, 1785, when he returned to America, leaving his 
father our ambassador at the court of .St. James. 

The advancement which he had already made in education was such that 
in 1786 he entered the junior class in Harvard University. His character, 
attainments, and devotion to study secured alike the respect of his classmates 
and the faculty, and he graduated with the second honor of his class. Upon 
leaving college, at the age of twenty, he studied law, and in 1790 opened an 
office in Boston. 

When Great Britain commenced war against France, in 1793, to arrest the 
progress of the French Revolution, Mr. Adams wrote some articles urging entire 
neutrality on the part of the United States. The view was not a popular one. 
Many felt that as France had helped us, we were bound to help France. But ;| 
President Washington coincided with Mr. Adams, and issued a proclamation 



MISSION TO EUROPE. 163 

of neutrality. His writings at this time in the Boston journals attracted national 
attention, and gave him so high a reputation for talent and familiarity with our 
diplomatic relations, that in June, 1794, he, being then but twenty-seven years 
of age, was appointed by Washington resident minister at the Netherlands. 

In the agitated state of Europe, swept by great armies struggling for and 
against "equal rights for all men," there was but little that a peaceful ambassa- 
dor could then accomplish; but being one of the most methodical and laborious 
of men, he devoted himself to official duties, the claims of society, reading the 
ancient classics, and familiarizing himself with the languages of modern Europe. 
Every hour had its assigned duty. Every night he reviewed what he had done 
for the day ; and at the close of every month and every year he subjected his 
conduct to rigorous retrospection. 

In July, 1797, he left the Hague to go to Portugal as minister plenipoten- 
tiary. Washington at this time wrote to his father, John Adams : — 

"Without intending to compliment the father or the mother, or to censure 
any others, I give it as my decided opinion, that Mr. Adams is the most valuable 
character which we have abroad ; and there remains no doubt in my mind that 
he will prove himself the ablest of all our diplomatic corps." 

On his way to Portugal, upon his arrival in London, he met with despatches 
directing him to the court of Berlin, but requesting him to remain in London 
until he should receive his instructions. While waiting he was married to an 
American lady to whom he had been previously engaged, — Miss Louisa Catha- 
rine Johnson, daughter of the American consul in London ; a lady endowed with 
beauty and accomplishments which made her a worthy companion. 

He reached Berlin with his wife in November, 1797, where he remained 
until July, 1799, when, having fulfilled all the purposes of his mission, he 
solicited his recall. As soon as permission came for his return, he embarked, 
and reached the United States in September, 1801. 

SENATOR AND rROFESSOR, 

Soon after his return, in 1802, he was chosen to the Senate of Massachu- 
setts from Boston, and then was elected senator of the United States for six years 
from the 4th of March, 1804. His reputation, ability, and experience placed 
him immediately among the most prominent and influential members of that 
body. In every measure which his judgment approved, he cordially sifpported 
Mr. Jefferson's administration. Especially did he sustain the government in its 
measures of resistance to the encroachments of England, destroying our 
commerce and insulting our flag. There was no man in America more familiar 
with the arrogance of the British court upon these points, and no one more 
resolved to present a firm resistance. 

In 1 805 he was chosen professor of rhetoric in Harvard College ; and this 



,64 JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 

indefatigable man. in addition to his senatorial duties, entered vigorously upon 
a course of preparatory studies, reviewing his classics, and searching the litera- 
ture of Europe for materials for his lectures. The lectures he thus prepared 
were subsequently published, and constitute enduring memorials of his genius 
and his industry. 

In 1809 Madison succeeded Jefferson in the presidential chair; and he 
immediately nominated John Ouincy Adams minister to St. Petersburg. 
Resigning his professorship, he embarked at Boston with Mrs. Adams and their 
youngest son in August, 1809, and, after a stormy passage, reached St. Peters- 
buror on the 23d of October. Twice their ship, which was a merchantman, was 
stopped and searched by British cruisers ; and, but for Mr. Adams' firmness 
and thorough acquaintance with the laws of nations, the ship would not have 
been permitted to continue to its port of destination. 

He was received by the Emperor Ale.xander alone in his cabinet, and a 
warm attachment immediately sprang up between those illustrious men ; and 
thus was laid the foundations of that friendship which binds the two nations 
together to the present day. 

The foreign ministers at the Russian court were generally living in the 
greatest magnificence ; but Mr. Adams received so small a salary that he was 
compelled to practice the most rigid economy. He was expected to attend the 
splendid entertainments of others, but could give none in return. One morning, 
as he was out walking, he met the emperor, who came cordially up to him, and, 
clasping his hand, said : — 

" Why, Mr. Adams, it is a hundred years since I have seen you ! " After 
some common observations, he inquired, " Do you intend to take a house in the 
country this summer? " 

" No," Mr. Adams replied: "I had that intention for some time, but have 
given it up." 

"And why? " inquired the emperor. Then, observing a little hesitation in 
Mr. Adams' manner, he relieved him from his embarrassment by saying in 
perfect good humor, and with a smile, "Perhaps it is from considerations of 
finance." 

" Those considerations are often very important," Mr. Adams replied. 

"You are right," rejoined the emperor : "it is always necessary to pro- 
portion one's expenses to one's receipts." 

While in Russia Mr. Adams was an intense student. He devoted his 
attention to the language and history of Russia ; to the Chinese trade ; to the 
European system of weights, measures, and coins ; to the climate, and astro- ' 
nomical observations ; while he kept up a familiar acquaintance with the Greek 
and Latin classics. In all the universities of Europe a more accomplished ' 
scholar could scarcely be found. All through life the Bible constituted an 

> 



THE TREATY OF GHENT. 



165 



important part of his studies. It was his rule every day to read five chapters. 
He also read with grreat attention the works of the most eminent theologians. 
With this eagerness in the pursuit of knowledge, it is not surprising that he 
should write to a friend : — 

"I feel nothing like the tediousness of time. I suffer nothing like ennui. 
Time Is too short for me rather than too long. If the day was forty-eight hours, 
instead of twenty-four, I could employ them all, if I had but eyes and hands to 
read and write." 

As England had consented to treat for peace, Mr. Adams was appointed, 
with Mr. Gallatin and Mr. Bayard, to conduct the negotiations. The commis- 




THE WHITE HOUSE AT WASHINGTON. 



stoners met at Ghent, in 181 5. Mr. Adams took the leading part. The 
Marquis of Wellesley, in commenting upon the treaty which was then entered 
into, said in the British House of Lords, — 

" In my opinion, the American commissioners have shown the most aston- 
ishing superiority over the English during the whole of the correspondence." 

From Ghent Mr. Adams went to Paris, where he chanced to be when the 
Emperor Napoleon returned from Elba. Mrs. Adams joined him here ; and 
they proceeded together to London, he having been appointed minister to the 
British court. 

On the 4th of March, 181 7, Mr. Monroe took the presidential chair, and 



,66 JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 

Immediately appointed Mr. Adams Secretary of State. Taking leave of his 
numerous friends in public and private life in Europe, he sailed, ni June, 1817, 
for the United States. After a short visit home, he repaired to Washington, 
and entered upon his new duties, as thoroughly prepared for them, in ability, 
education, and e.xperience, as one could be. During the eight years of Mr. 
Monroe's administration, Mr. Adams continued Secretary of State. Few w-U 
now contradict the assertion, that the duties of that office were never more ably 
discharged. Probably the most important measure which Mr. Adams conducted 
was the^'purchase of Florida from Spain, for five million dollars. 

Some time before the close of Mr. Monroe's second term of office, new 
candidates began to be presented for the presidency. The friends of Mr. Adams 
brought forward his name. It was an exciting campaign. Party spirit was 
never more bitter. Two hundred and sixty-one electoral votes were cast. 
Andrew lackson received ninety-nine ; John Ouincy Adams, eighty-four ; Wil- 
liam H. Crawford, forty-one ; Henry Clay, thirty-seven. As there was no choice 
by the people, the question went to the House of Representatives. Mr. Clay 
gave the vote of Kentucky to Mr. Adams, and he was elected. 

The friends of the disappointed candidates now combined in a venomous 
and persistent assault upon Mr. Adams. There are few things more disgrace- 
ful in the history of our country than the abuse which was poured upon this 
high-minded, upright, patriotic man. There never was an administration more 
pure in principles, more conscientiously devoted to the best interests of the 
country, than that of John Ouincy Adams ; and never, perhaps, was there an 
administration more unscrupulously and outrageously assailed. It may, how- 
ever, help us to understand what would otherwise be unaccountable, if we 
remember what an immense influence is exerted by personal manners, and 
how deficient Adams was in this respect. 

ADAMS AND JACKSON IN CONTRAST. 

Mr. Adams, in his public manners, was cold and repulsive ; though it is 
said that with his personal friends he was at times very genial. Ifl his public 
receptions and official intercourse he often appeared " with a formal coldness, 
that froze like the approach to an iceberg." The evening after the election Mr. 
Monroe held a presidential levee. All Washington crowded to the White 
House, eager to pay homage to the rising sun. Mr. S. G. Goodrich (" Peter 
Parley") happened to be present, and has described the scene: — 

'T shall pass over," he writes, "other individuals present, only noting an 
incident which respects the two persons in the assembly who, most of all 
others, engrossed the thoughts of the visitors, — Mr. Adams the elect. General 
Jackson the defeated. It chanced in the course of the evening that these two 
persons, involved in the throng, approached each other from opposite directions. 



i! 

ii 



MEETING WITH GENERAL JACKSON. 



167 



yet without knowing- it. Suddenly, as they were almost together, the persons 
around, seeing what was to happen, by a sort of instinct stepped aside, and left 



i'S*'s 



:W^ 




OPENING OF THE ERIE 
CANAL, IN 1S25. 



them face to face. Mr. Adams Vsv.-^"^*^ 
was by himself : General Jack- ^ ^^ 
son had a large, handsome lady 
on his arm. They looked at each other for a moment ; and then General Jack- 
son moved forward, and, reaching out his long arm, said, ' How do you do, Mr. 



^A4nmXifrO J30, 



1 68 JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 

Adams ? I give you my left hand ; for the right, as you see, is devoted to the 
fair. I hope you are very well, sir." All this was gallantly and heartily said 
and done. Mr. Adams took the general's hand, and said, with chilling cold- 
ness, ' Very well, sir ; I hope General Jackson is well.' 

" It was curious to see the Western planter, the Indian fighter, the .stern 
soldier, who had written his country's glory in the blood of the enemy at New 
Orleans, genial and gracious in the midst of a court ; while the old courtier and 
diplomat was stiff rigid, cold as a statue. It was all the more remarkable from 
the fact, that, four hours before, the former had been defeated, and the latter 
was the victor, in a struggle for one of the highest objects of human ambition. 
The personal character of these two individuals was, in fact, well expressed in 
that chance meeting. — the gallantry, the frankness, the heartiness, of the one, 
which captivated all ; the coldness, the distance, the self-concentration, of the 
•other, which repelled all." 

Mr. Adams was, to a very remarkable degree, abstemious and temperate 
in his habits ; always rising early, and taking much exercise. When at his 
home in Quincy, he has been known to walk seven miles to Boston before break- 
fast. In Washington, it was said that he was the first man up in the city, light 
ing his own fire, and applying himself to work in his library often long before 
the dawn. He was an expert swimmer, and was exceedingly fond of bathing ; i 
and was in the habit in the summer, every morning, of plunging into the Poto- 
mac with all the sportivcness of a boy. He sometimes made the journey from 
Quincy to Washington on horseback, accompanied by a single attendant. 

The administration of Mr. Adams was one of the ablest and best which 
the country has ever seen ; although, perhaps for that very reason, it was un- 
eventful. It was notable for being the last one under which partisanship was 
not allowed to affect the public service. To Jackson's administration, which 
followed, belongs the distinction of introducing the "Spoils System," under 
which the government offices are used as a reward for political service in the 
election. Adams' administration was pure, because he himself was pure. Up- 
right, able, energetic, industrious, and thoroughly trained, he was probably better 
equipped for the presidency than any other man who has ever filled the chair. 

In 1829 he was succeeded by General Jackson, and retired to his Massa- 
chusetts home. Not long, however, was he left in retirement. In 1830 he was 
nominated and elected to the House of Representatives. It was supposed by 
many that, having held the office of president, he would refuse to accept the 
humbler post. There was no precedent where a chief magistrate had afterward 
sat in the House. All doubts, however, were soon set at rest by his prompt 
acceptance. Litde did any one then realize how greatly his service in the lower 
house of Congress would outweigh all that he had hitherto done for his country, 
or how far its history would eclipse the fame of his earlier career. 






AN EXCITING CONTEST. 169 

Upon taking- his seat in the house, he announced that he should hold him- 
self bound to no party. Probably there was never a member of the house more 
devoted to his duties. He was usually the first in his place in the morning, and 
the last to leave his seat in the evening. Not a measure could be brought for- 
ward, and escape his scrutiny. The battle which Mr. Adams fought, almost 
singly, against the pro-slavery party in the government, was sublime in its moral 
daring and heroism. For persisting in presenting petitions for the abolition of 
slavery, he was threatened with indictment by the grand jury, with expulsion 
from the house, with assassination ; but no threats could intimidate him, and his 
final triumph was complete. Congress, yielding to the pro-slavery spirit of the 
South, passed a resolve in January, 1837, " that all petitions relating to slavery, 
without being printed or referred, shall be laid on the table, and no action shall 
be had thereon." Some of the pro-slavery party forged a petition, as if from 
slaves, to see if Mr. Adams would dare to present it. 

THE FORGED PETITION. 

On the 6th of February, 1837, Mr. Adams rose with this forged petition in 
his hand, and said : " I hold a paper purporting to come from slaves. I wish to 
know if such a paper comes within the order of the house respecting petitions." 

The sensitiveness of the house upon this subject may be inferred from the 
fact that a storm of indignation was instantly roused. Waddy Thompson of 
South Carolina, Charles E. Haynes of Georgia, Dixon H. Lewis of Alabama, 
sprang to the floor, presenting resolutions, "that John Quincy Adams, by 
attempting to present a petition purporting to be from slaves, has been guilty of 
gross disrespect to the house, and that he be instantly brought to the bar to 
receive the severe censure of the speaker." 

Never were assailants more thoroughly discomfited. " Mr. Speaker," said 
Mr. Adams, " to prevent the consumption of time, I ask the gentlemen to modify 
their resolution a little, so that, when I come to the bar of the house, I may not, 
by a word, put an end to it. I did not present the petition. I said that I had a 
paper purporting to be a petition from slaves ; and I asked the speaker whether 
he considered such a paper as included in the general order of the house, that 
all petitions relating to slavery should be laid upon the table. I intended to 
take the decision of the speaker before I went one step toward presenting that 
petition. This is Xh^fact. 

" I adhere to the right of petition. Where is your law which says the mean, 
the low, the degraded, shall be deprived of the right of petition ? Petition is 
supplication, entreaty, prayer. Where is the degree of vice or immorality which 
shall deprive the citizen of the right to supplicate for a boon, or to pray for 
mercy? Where is such a law to be found ? It does not belong to the most abject 
despotism. There is no absolute monarch on earth who is not compelled, by 



lyo JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 

the constitution of his country, to receive the petitions of his people, whosoever 
they may be. The Sultan of Constantinople cannot walk the streets, and refuse 
to receive petitions from the meanest and vilest in the land. The right of peti- 
tion belongs to all ; and, so far from refusing to present a petition because it 
might come from those low in the estimation of the world, it would be an addi- 
tional incentive, if such an incentive were wanting." 

After a debate of extreme bitterness, running through four days, only 
twenty votes could be found to cast any censure upon Mr. Adams. There was 
perhaps never a fiercer battle fought in legislative halls than Mr. Adams waged, 
for nearly a score of years, with the partisans of slavery in Congress. In every 
encounter he came off victor. At the age of seventy-four he appeared in the 
Supreme Court of the United States, after an absence from that court of thirty 
years, to plead the cause of a few friendless negroes, the Amistad captives, who, 
with their own strong arms, had freed themselves from the man-stealers. His 
effort was crowned with complete success ; and the poor Africans, abundantly 
furnished with the implements of civilized life, were returned to the homes from 
which they had been so ruthlessly torn. 

"I WILL PUT THE QUESTION MYSELF ! " 

In 1839 Congress was for a time seriously disorganized in consequence of 
two delegations appearing from New Jersey, each claiming the election. By 
usage, the clerk of the preceding Congress, on the first assembling, acts as 
chairman until a speaker is chosen. When, in calling the roll, the clerk came 
to New Jersey, he stated that, as the five seats of the members from that State 
were contested, he should pass over those names. A violent debate ensued. 
For four days there was anarchy, and it was found impossible to organize the 
house. Mr. Adams, during all this scene of confusion, sat quietly engaged in 
writing, apparently taking no interest in the debate, but watching intently for 
the moment when he could effectually make a movement. 

On the morning of the fourth day, the clerk again commenced calling the 
roll. When he reached New Jersey, he again repeated, "as these seats are 
contested," when Mr. Adams sprang to the floor, and in clear, shrill tones, which 
penetrated every portion of the house, cried out, — 

" I rise to interrupt the clerk." 

A multitude of voices shouted, " Hear him ! hear him ! — hear John Ouincy 
Adams ! " 

In an instant, there was profound silence. Every eye was riveted upon 
that venerable old man, whose years and honors, and purity of character, com- 
manded the respect of the bitterest of his foes. For a moment he paused : and 
there was such stillness that the fall of a pin might have been heard. Then, in 
those tones of intensity which ever arrested the attention of the house, he said,— 



PUTTING THE QUESTION. 171 

" It was not my intention to take any part in these extraordinary proceed- 
ings. I had hoped that this house would succeed in organizing itself. This is 
not the time nor place to discuss the merits of conflicting claimants : that subject 
belongs to the House of Representatives. What a spectacle we here present ! 
We do not and cannot organize ; and why ? Because the clerk of this house — 
the mere clerk, whom we create, whom we employ — usurps the throne, and sets 
us, the vicegerents of the whole American people, at defiance. And what is 
this clerk of yours ? Is he to suspend, by his mere negative, the functions of 
government, and put an end to this Congress. He refuses to call the roll. It 
is in your power to compel him to call it, if he will not do it voluntarily." 

Here he was interrupted by a member, who stated that the clerk could not 
be compelled to call the roll, as he would resign rather than do so. 

"Well, sir, let him resign," continued Mr. Adams, "and we may possibly 
discover some way by which we can get along without the aid of his all-power- 
ful talent, learning, and genius. If we cannot organize in any other way, if 
this clerk of yours will not consent to our discharging the trust confided to us 
by our constituents, then let us imitate the example of the Virginia House of 
Burgesses, which, when the colonial Governor Dinwiddle ordered it to disperse, 
refused to obey the imperious and insulting mandate, and like 7uen " 

Here there was such a burst of applause from the whole house, that, for a 
moment, his voice was drowned. Cheer upon cheer rose, shaking the walls of 
the Capitol. As soon as he could again be heard he submitted a motion, re- 
quiring the clerk to call the roll. " How shall the question be put?" The 
voice of Mr. Adams was heard rising above the tumult, as he cried out, " I in- 
tend to put the question myself! " 

Another burst of applause followed ; when Mr. Barnwell Rhett of South 
Carolina leaped upon one of the desks, and shouted, "I move that the Hon. 
John Ouincy Adams take the chair of the speaker of the house, and officiate as 
presiding officer till the house be organized by the election of its constitutional 
officers. As many as are agreed to this will say ' Aye ! ' " 

One universal, thundering "Aye!" came back in response. Mr. Adams 
was conducted to the chair, and the house was organized. Mr. Wise of Vir- 
ginia, soon after, addressing him, said, — 

" Sir, I regard it as the proudest hour of your life ; and if when you shall 
be gathered to your fathers, I were asked to select the words which, in my judg- 
ment, are best calculated to give at once the character of the man, I would 
inscribe upon your tomb this sentence, 'I will put the question myself " 

In January, 1842, Mr. Adams presented a petition from forty-five citizens 
of Haverhill, Mass., praying for the peaceable dissolution of the Union. The 
pro-slavery party in Congress, who where then plotting the destruction of the 
government, were roused to a degree of commotion such as even our stormy 



172 JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 

hall of legislation has rarely witnessed. They met in caucus, and, finding that 
they probably would not be able to cxpcl Mr. Adams from the house, drew up a 
series of resolutions, which, if adopted, would intlict upon him disgrace equiva- 
lent to expulsion. Mr. Adams had presented the petition, which was most 
respectfully worded, and had moved that it be referred to a committee instructed 
to report an answer, showing the reasons why the prayer ought not to be 

granted. 

It was the 25th of January. The whole body of the pro-slavery party came 
crowding together into the house, prepared to crush Mr. Adams forever. One 




HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES. 



of their number, Thomas F. Marshall of Kentucky, was appointed to read the 
resolutions, which accused Mr. Adams of high treason, of having insulted the 
government, and of meriting expulsion ; but for which deserved punishment, 
the house, in its great mercy, would substitute its severest censure. With the 
assumption of a very .solemn and magisterial air, there being breathless silence 
in the imposing audience, Mr. Marshall hurled the carefully prepared anathemas 
at his victim. Mr. Adams stood alone, the whole pro-slavery party madly 
against him. 

As soon as the resolutions were read, every eye being fixed upon him, up 
rose that bold old man, whose scattered locks were whitened by seventy-five 



A CHARGE OF TREASON. 173 

years ; and casting a withering glance in tlie direction of his assailants, in a 
clear, shrill tone, tremulous with suppressed emotion, he said, — 

" In reply to this audacious, atrocious charge of high treason, I call for the 
reading of the first paragraph of the Declaration of Independence. Read if, 
READ IT ! and see what that says of the right of a people to reform, to change, 
and to dissolve their government." 

The attitude, the manner, the tone, the words ; the venerable old man, with 
flashing eye and flushed cheek, and whose very form seemed to expand under 
the inspiration of the occasion, — all presented a scene overawing in its sub- 
limity. There was breathless silence as that paragraph was read, in defense of 
whose principles our fathers had pledged " their lives, their fortunes, and their 
sacred honor." It was a proud hour to Mr. Adams, as they were all compelled 
to listen to the words, — 

" That, to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, 
deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed ; and that, when- 
ever any form of government becomes destructive of those ends, it is the right 
of the people to alter or abolish it, and to institute new government, laying its 
foundations on such principles, and organizing its powers in such form, as shall 
seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness." 

That one sentence baffled and routed the foe. The heroic old man 
looked around upon the audience, and thundered out, " Read that again ! " It 
was again read. Then, in a few fiery, logical words, he stated his defense in 
terms which even prejudiced minds could not resist. His discomfited assail- 
ants made sundry attempts to rally. After a conflict of eleven days they gave 
up vanquished, and their resolution was ignominiously laid upon the table. 

HONORS FROM THE PEOPLE. 

In the summer of 1843 Mr. Adams took a tour through western New 
York. His journey was a perfect ovation. In all the leading cities he was 
received with the highest marks of consideration. The whole mass of the 
people rose to confer honor upon the man who had battled so nobly for human 
rights, and whose public and private character was without a stain. The greet- 
ing which he received at Buffalo was such as that city had never before conferred 
upon any man. The national flag was floating from every masthead. The 
streets were thronged with the multitude, who greeted with bursts of applause 
the renowned patriot and statesman as soon as he appeared. The Hon. Millard 
Fillmore, subsequently President of the United States, welcomed him in the 
following words : — 

" You see here assembled the people of our infant city, without distinction 
of party, sex, age, or condition, — all, all, anxiously vying with each other to 
show their respect and esteem for your public and private worth. Here are 



174 JOHN OUIXCY ADAMS. 

gathered, in this vast multitude of what must appear to you strange faces, 
thousands whose hearts ha\e vibrated to the chord of sympathy which your 
speeches have touched. Here is reflecting age, and ardent youth, and Usping 
childhood, to all of whom your venerated name is as dear as household words, — ■ 
all anxious to feast their eyes by a sight of that extraordinary and venerable 
man, that old man cloijucnt. upon whose lips \\' isdom has distilled her choicest 
nectar. Here you see them all, and read in their eager and joy-gladdened 
countenances and brightly beaming eyes, a welcome, a thrice-told, heartfelt, 
soul-stirring welcome, to the man whom they delight to honor." 

In January, 1846, when seventy-eight years of age, he took part in the 
great debate on the Oregon question, displaying intellectual vigor, and an 
extent and accuracy of acquaintance with the subject, which excited great 
admiration. At the close of the session, on the 17th of November, he had an 
attack of paralysis while walking in the streets of Boston. He, however, so far 
recovered, that he soon resumed his official duties in Washington. As he 
entered the house on the i6th of February, 1847, for the first time since his 
illness, every member instinctively rose in token of respect ; and by two mem- 
bers he was formally conducted to his seat. After this, though constantly 
present, he took little part in the debates. 

It has been said of Mr. Adams, that when his body was bent and his hair 
silvered by the lapse of fourscore years, he was accustomed to repeat every night, 
before he slept, the prayer which his mother taught him in his infant years. 
There is great moral beauty in the aspect of the venerable, world-worn states- 
man, folding his hands and repeating, in the simplicity and sincerity of child- 
hood, the words : — 

" Now I lay me down to sleep, 
I pray the Lord my soul to keep : 
If I should die before I wake, 
I pray the Lord my soul to lake." 

On the 2 1 St of February, 1848, he rose on the lloor of Congress, with a 
paper in his hand, to address the speaker. Suddenly he fell, again stricken by 
paralysis, and was caught in the arms of those around him. For a time he was 
senseless, as he was conveyed to a sofa in the rotunda. With reviving con- 
sciousness he opened his eyes, looked calmly around, and said, ''This is the last 
of earth ;" then after a moment's pause, he added, " I am content!' These were 
his last words. His family were summoned to his side ; and in the apart- 
ment of the speaker of the house, beneath the dome of the Capitol, — the 
theatre of his labors and his triumphs, — he soon breathed his last. 

I he voices of denunciation were now hushed, and all parties united in 
tributes of honor to one of the purest patriots, and one of the most distinguished 
statesmen, America has produced. 



HENRY CLAY, 

POPULAR HERO, PATRIOT, AND STATESVTAN. 



X^IBi 





ITH the close of the great civil war in 1865 disap- 
peared from our politics the great problem which for 
^, , -i^v ^^^^ ^ century had absorbed the attention and 

f^ ■^yrAr tasked the abilities of American statesmen. 

Throughout that period there was always one 
overshadowing subject. Whatever other ques- 
tions of domestic policy came up, — tariff, currency, 
internal improvements. State rights, — they were 
always subordinate to the main question, how to 
preserve the Union and slavery together. Some, 
like Calhoun, were ready to abandon the Union to 
save slavery ; others, like Garrison, were ready to 
abandon the Union to destroy slavery ; but between 
these extremes stood a great body of able and patriotic statesmen, who 
loved and prized the Union above all else, and who, to save it, would make 
any sacrifice, would join in any compromise. At the head of these, for more 
than fifty years, towered the great figure of Henry Clay. 

Not often does a man whose life is spent in purely civil affairs become such 
a popular hero and idol as did Clay — especially when it is his fate never to 
reach the highest place in the people's gift. " Was there ever," says Parton, 
"a. public man, not at the head of a state, so beloved as he ? Who ever heard 
such cheers, so hearty, distinct and ringing, as those which his name evoked ? 
Men shed tears at his defeat, and women went to bed sick from pure sympathy 
with his disappointment. He could not travel during the last thirty years of his 
life, but only make progresses. When he left home the public seized him and 
bore him along over the land, the committee of one State passing him on to the 
committee of another, and the hurrahs of one town dying away as those of the 
next caught his ear." One evidence of his popularity is the great number of 
children named in his honor. An English woman traveling in America during 
the Presidential canvass of 1844 writes that at least three-fourths of all the boy 
babies born in that year must have been named for Henry Clay. " Even now, 
more than thirty years after his death," says Carl Schurz, writing in 1886, "we 
may hear old men, who knew him in the days of his strength, speak of him 



178 HENRY CLAY. 

with an enthusiasm and affection so warm and fresh as to convince us that the 
recollection of having followed his leadership is among the dearest treasures of 
their memory." 

Henry Clay was born in Hanover county, near Richmond, Virginia, in one 
of the darkest days of the Revolution, — the year of 1 777 ; the year of the battles 
of Brandywine and Germantown, before yet the glad news of Burgoyne's sur- 
render had come to cheer the hearts of the struggling colonists. His father, a 
poor Baptist preacher, died when Henry was four years old, leaving a wife and 
seven children. There is a story that while his body was lying in the house, a 
party of British cavalry made a raid through the neighborhood, and left on 
Mrs. Clay's table a handful of silver to pay for some property they had taken ; 
but that as soon as they were gone, even in her poverty and grief the spirited 
woman swept the money from the table and threw it in the fireplace. 

Clay's boyhood was that of the typical "self-made man," — a time of hard 
labor, poverty, and small opportunities. "We catch our first glimpse of the 
boy when he sat in a little log school-house, without windows or floor, one of a 
humming score of shoeless boys, where a good-natured, irritable, drinking 
English schoolmaster taught him to read, write, and cipher as far as Practice. 
This was the only school he ever attended, and that was all he learned at it. His 
widowed mother with her seven young children, her little farm, and two or three 
slaves, could do no more for him. Next, we see him a tall, awkward, slender 
stripling of thirteen, still barefoot, clad in homespun butternut of his mother's 
making, tilling her fields, and going to mill with his bag of corn strapped upon 
the family pony." At fourteen, in the year 1791, a place was found for him in a 
Richmond drug store, where he served as errand boy and youngest clerk for 
one year. 

At this time occurred an event which decided his future. His mother hav- 
ing married again, her husband had influence enough to obtain for the youth a 
clerkship in the office of the Court of Chancery. The young gentlemen 
employed in that office long remembered the entrance among them of their new 
comrade. He was fifteen at the time, but very tall for his age, very slender, 
very awkward, and far from handsome. His good mother had arrayed him in 
a full suit of pepper-and-salt "figinny," an old Virginia fabric of silk and cotton. 
His -shirt and shirt-collar were stiffly starched, and his coat-tail stood out boldly 
behind him. The dandy clerks of Richmond exchanged glances as this gawky 
figure entered and took his place at a desk to begin work. 

As he grew older, the raw and awkward stripling became a young man 
whose every movement had a winning or commanding grace. Handsome he 
never was ; but his ruddy face and abundant light hair, the grandeur of his fore- 
head, and the speaking intelligence of his countenance, more than atoned for 
the irregularity of his features. But of all the physical gifts bestowed by nature 



A RISING LAWYER. 



179 



upon this favored child, the most unique and admirable was his voice. There 
was a depth of tone in it, a volume, a compass, a rich and tender harmony, 
which invested all he said with majesty. Parton writes that he heard it last when 
Clay was an old man, past seventy ; and all he said was a few words of acknowl- 
edgment to a group of ladies in the largest hall in Philadelphia. " He spoke 
only in the ordinary tone of conversation ; but his voice filled the room as the 
organ fills a great cathedral, and the ladies stood spellbound as the swelling 
cadences rolled about the vast apartment. We have heard much of Whitefield's 
piercing voice and Patrick Henry's silvery tones, but we cannot believe that 
either of those natural orators possessed an organ superior to Clay's majestic 
bass. No one who ever heard him speak will find it difficult to believe what 
tradition reports, that he was the peer- 
less star of the Richmond Debating 
Society in 1795." 

But he soon discovered that these 
gifts would not get him a paying practice 
as an attorney in Richmond so quickly 
as he desired ; and as his mother and 
step-father had removed to Kentucky in 
1 792, he resolved to follow them to the 
western wilds, and there "grow up with 
the country." He was in his twenty- 
first year when he left Richmond, with 
his license to practice as an attorney, 
but with little else, in his pocket. 

A tall, plain, poor, friendless youth 
was young Henry Clay, when he set up 
in Lexington, and announced himself a 
candidate for practice as an attorney. 
He had not even the means of paying 

his board. "I remember," he said, in a speech in 1842, "how comfortable I 
thought I should be if I could make ^100, Virginia money, per year; and 
with what delight I received my first fifteen-shilling fee. My hopes were 
more than realized. I immediately rushed into a lucrative practice." 

Less than two years after his arrival at Lexington, in April, 1 799, Clay had 
achieved a position sufficiently secure to ask for and to obtain the hand of 
Lucretia Hart, the daughter of a man of high character and prominent standing 
in the State. She was a very estimable woman, and a most devoted wife to him. 
His prosperity increased rapidly ; so that soon he was able to purchase Ash- 
land, an estate of some six hundred acres, near Lexington, which afterward 
became famous as Henry Clay's home. 




AN OLD VIRGINIA MANSIU.N. 



i8o 



HENRY CLAY. 



During the first thirteen years of Henry Clay's active life as a politician, he 
appears only as the eloquent champion of the policy of Mr. Jefferson, whom he 
esteemed the first and best of living men. After defending him on the stump 
and aiding him in the Kentucky Legislature, he was sent in 1806, when scarcely 
thirty, to fill for one term a seat in the Senate of the United States, made vacant 

by the resignation of one 
of the Kentucky Senators. 
Returning home at the end 
of the session, he re-entered 
the Kentucky Legislature. 
In support of President Jef- 
ferson's policy of non-inter- 
course with the warring 
nations of Europe, who were 
preying upon American com- 
merce, Mr. Clay proposed 
that members of the Legis- 
lature should bind them- 
selves to wear nothing that 
was not of American manu- 
facture. A Federalist mem- 
ber, ignorant of the fact that 
the refusal of the people to 

nT ( X^BikUBSS^ HI'JHB 'Li'l^^^ iS '''^^ foreign imports had 
yilfl^HHm ^^B^Hm^)^9^B|i^1S ^^^^^^ ^^ repeal of the 
. ''x^^^S^^^^^"^ Wl^K^m-K^f^UMKm Stamp Act, and would have 

postponed the Revolution 
but for the accident at 
Lexington, denounced Mr. 
Clay's proposition as the act 
of a demagogue. Clay chal- 
lenged this ill-informed gen- 
tleman, and a duel resulted, 
in which two shots were ex- 
changed, and both antagonists were slighdy wounded. Elected again to the. 
Senate for an unexpired term, he re-appeared in that body in 1809, and sat 
during two sessions. 

Mr. Clay's public life proper began in November, 181 1, as a member of 
the House of Representatives. He was immediately elected speaker by the 
war party, by the decisive majority of thirty-one. He was then thirty-four years 
of age. 




M \NS1UN— l.N-ILRlwK. 



CLA Y AS SPEAKER. 1 8 1 

It is agreed that to Henry Clay, Speaker of the House of Representatives, 
more than to any other individual, we owe the war of 1812. When the House 
hesitated, it was he who, descending from the chair, spoke so as to re-assure it. 
When President Madison faltered, it was the stimulus of Clay's resistless pres- 
ence that put heart into him again. Clay it was whose clarion notes rang out 
over departing regiments, and kindled within them the martial fire ; and it was 
Clay's speeches which the soldiers loved to read by the camp-fire. When the 
war was going all wrong in the first year, President Madison wished to appoint 
Clay commander-in-chief of the land forces ; but, said Gallatin, " What shall we 
do without him in the House of Representatives ?" 

In 1 8 14, Clay was sent with four other commissioners to Ghent, in Belgium, 
to arrange the terms of a peace with England. A single anecdote will illustrate 
the impression he everywhere produced. An octogenarian British earl, who 
had retired from public life because of his years, but who still cherished a natural 
interest in public men and measures, being struck by the impression made in the 
aristocratic circles of London by the American commissioners, then on their way 
home from Ghent, requested a friend to bring them to see him at his house, to 
which his growing infirmities confined him. The visit was promptly and cheer- 
fully paid, and the obliging friend afterwards inquired of the old lord as to the 
impression the Americans had made upon him. "Ah !" said the veteran, with 
the " light of other days " gleaming from his eyes, " I liked them all, but I liked 
the Kentucky man best." It was so everywhere. 

From 1815, when he returned from Europe, until 1825, when he became 
Secretary of State under John Ouincy Adams, Clay was Speaker of the House 
of Representatives. He was confessedly the best presiding officer that any 
deliberative body in America has ever known, and none was ever more severely 
tried. The intensity and bitterness of party feeling during the earlier portion 
of his speakership cannot now be realized except by the few who remember those 
days. On the floor of the house, Mr. Clay was often impetuous in discussion, 
and delighted to relieve the tedium of debate, and modify the bitterness of antag- 
onism, by a sportive jest or lively repartee. On one occasion. General Smythe 
of Virginia, who often afflicted the house by the dryness and verbosity of his 
harangues, had paused in the middle of a speech, which seemed likely to endure 
forever, to send to the library for a book from which he wished to note a pas- 
sage. Fixing his eye on Mr. Clay, he observed the Kentuckian writhing in his 
seat, as if his patience had already been exhausted. "You, sir," remarked 
Smythe, addressing him, " speak for the present generation ; but I speak for 
posterity." " Yes," said Clay, "and you seem resolved to speak until the arrival 
of your audience." 

Only once in the *;ourse of his long representative career was Clay obliged 
to canvass for his election, and he was never defeated, nor ever could be, before 



,82 HENRY CLAY. 

a public that he could personally meet and address. The one searching ordeal 
to which he was subjected, followed the passage of the " Compensation Act" of 
1816, whereby Congress substituted for its per diem rate a fixed salary of 
$1500 to each member. This act excited great hostility especially in the West, 

then very poor. 

While canvassing the district, Mr. Clay encountered an old hunter, who 
had always before been his warm friend, but was now opposed to his re-election 
on account of the Compensation Bill. " Have you a good rifle, my friend?" 
asked Mr. Clay. "Yes." "Did it ever flash?" "Once only," he replied. 
" What did you do with it,— throw it away ? " " No ; I picked the flint, tried it 
again, and brought down the game." " Have I ever flashed, but upon the Com- 
pensation Bill?" "No!" "Will you throw me away?" "No, no!" ex- 
claimed the hunter with enthusiasm, nearly overpowered by his feelings ; " I 
will pick the flint, and try you again ! " He was ever afterward a warm sup- 
porter of Mr. Clay. 

THE F.AMOUS "MISSOURI COMPROMISE." 

In March, 1818, a petition for the admission of Missouri into the Union was 
presented in Congress ; and then began that long and bitter struggle over 
slavery, which, after convulsing the country for nearly half a century, was finally 
ended on the banks of the Appomattox, in 1865. " No sooner had the debate 
begun," says Schurz, " than it became clear that the philosophical anti-slavery 
sentiment of the revolutionary period had entirely ceased to have any influence 
upon current thought in the South. The abolition of the foreign slave trade 
had not, as had been hoped, prepared the way for the abolition of slavery or 
weakened the slave interest in any sense. On the contrary, slavery had been 
immensely strengthened by an economic development making it more profitable 
than it ever had been before. The invention of the cotton gin by Eli Whitney, 
in 1793, had made the culture of cotton a very productive source of wealth. In 
1800 the exportation of cotton from the United .States was 19,000,000 pounds, 
valued at $5,700,000. In 1820 the value of the cotton export was nearly $20,- 
000,000, almost all of it the product of slave labor. The value of slaves may be 
said to have at least trebled in twenty years. The breeding of slaves became a 
profitable industry. Under such circumstances the slaveholders arrived at the 
conclusion that slavery was by no means so wicked and hurtful an institution as 
their revolutionary fathers had thought it to be. The anti-slavery professions 
of the revolutionary time became to them an awkward reminiscence, which they 
would have been glad to wipe from their own and other people's memories. 
On the other hand, in the Northern States there was no such change of feeling. 
Slavery was still, in the nature of things, believed to be a wrong and a sore. 
The change of sentiment in the South had not yet produced its reflex in the 
North. The slavery question had not become a subject of difference of opinion 



THE SLAVERY QUESTION. 



185 



and of controversy among the Northern people. As they had abolished slavery 
in their States, so they took it for granted that it ought to disappear, and would 
disappear in time, everywhere else. Slavery had indeed, now and then, asserted 
itself in the discussions of Congress as a distinct interest, but not in such a way 
as to arouse much alarm in the free States. The amendment to the Missouri 
Bill, providing for a restriction with regard to slavery, came therefore in a per- 
fectly natural way from that Northern sentiment which remained still faithful to 
the traditions of the revolutionary period. And it was a great surprise to most 
Northern people that so natural a proposition should be so fiercely resisted on 




TURNPIKE IN THE liLUE CKAbS REGION OF KENTUCKY. 



the part of the South. It was the sudden revelation of a change of feeling in 
the South which the North had not observed in its progress. ' The discussion 
of this Missouri question has betrayed the secret of their souls,' wrote John 
Quincy Adams. The slaveholders watched with apprehension the steady 
growth of the free States in population, wealth, and power. In 1 790 the popula- 
tion of the two sections had been nearly even. In 1820 there was a difference 
of over 600,000 in favor of the North in a total of less than ten millions. In 
1790 the representation of the two sections in Congress had been about evenly 
balanced. In 1820 the census promised to give the North a preponderance of 



1 84 HENRY CLAY. 

more than thirty votes in the House of Representatives. As the slaveholders 
had no longer the ultimate extinction, but now the perpetuation, of slavery in 
view, the question of sectional power became one of first importance to them, 
and with it the necessity of having more slave States for the purpose of main- 
taining the political equilibrium, at least in the Senate. A struggle for more 
slave States was to them a struggle for life. This was the true significance of 
the Missouri question." 

The famous " Missouri Compromise," by which the ominous dispute of 
1820 was at last setded, included the admission of one free State (Maine) and 
one slave State (Missouri) at the same time ; — a precedent which it was under- 
stood would be thereafter followed ; and it was enacted that no other slave State 
should be formed out of any of the Louisiana or " Northwest territory" north of 
ladtude 36° 30', which was the southern boundary line of Missouri. The assent 
of opposing parties to this arrangement was secured largely by the patriotic 
efforts of Clay, who, says Schurz, "did not confine himself to speeches, , . . 
but went from man to man, expostulating, beseeching, persuading, in his most 
winning way. . . . His success added greatly to his reputation and gave new 
strength to his influence." The result, says John Ouincy Adams, was "to bring 
into full display the talents and resources and influence of Mr. Clay." He was 
praised as "the great pacificator," — a character which was confirmed by the 
deeds of his later life. 

During his long term in the House of Representatives, Clay had the 
misfortune to incur the hatred of General Jackson, — a hatred which, once 
roused, was implacable. The only ground for Jackson's ill-will was found in 
proper criticisms by Clay of his public acts ; but to Jackson no criticism was 
proper ; and from that time forward hatred of Clay became one of Jackson's 
leading motives, actually determining his course in many of the most important 
acts of his public life. In 1825 it led to an attack which profoundly affected 
the political history of the time, as well as the career of Henry Clay. 

The presidential election of 1824 gave no one of the candidates a majority 
of the electoral votes. Jackson had 99 votes, Adams 84, Crawford 41, and 
Clay 37. Under the Constitution this result made it necessary for the House 
of Representatives to choose the President from among the three candidates 
having the largest number of votes. Clay was Speaker of the House ; and as 
his influence at this time was very great, it was at once perceived that he had it 
practically within his power to decide the choice ; and the friends of both Jack- 
son and Crawford began to pay assiduous court to him. He however prompdy 
declared his intention of using his influence to secure the choice of Adams ; 
whereupon the Jackson party, a few days before the election, publicly accused 
him of having sold his influence to Adams under a "corrupt bargain," by which 
Clay was to be given the Secretaryship of State in payment for making Adams 



THE COMPROMISE TARIFF. 185 

President. Adams was Clay's natural choice, and it was altogether fitting and 
proper that Clay should take the first place in the cabinet ; but the charge, with 
ingenious malice, was made befo7'e the election ; and when the event proved as 
predicted, the confirmation of what seemed a prophecy was almost irresistible, 
and it had a tremendous and most damaging effect. For years the cry of " bar- 
gain and sale " was never allowed to drop. History has shown that no charge 
was ever more completely unfounded. It appears to have been a deliberately 
concocted slander ; yet, in spite of every defense, the injury to Clay's reputa- 
tion and subsequent career was very great. 

In 1829, Jackson succeeded to the Presidency, and for a short season Clay 
returned to private life in his beautiful Kentucky home ; but he was not long to 
remain there; in 1831 he was again elected to the Senate, where he remained 
until 1842. They were stormy years. In South Carolina the opposition to 
the protective tariff had led to the promulgation of the famous "nullification" 
theory, — the doctrine that any State had the power to declare a law of the 
United States null and void. Jackson, whose anger was thoroughly aroused, 
dealt with the revolt in summary fashion ; threatening that if any resistance to 
the government was attempted, he would instantly have the leaders arrested 
and brought to trial for treason. Nevertheless, to allay the discontent of the 
South, Clay devised his Compromise Tariff of 1833, under which the duties 
were gradually reduced, until they reached a minimum of twenty per cent. In 
1832 he allowed himself, very unwisely, to be a candidate for the presidency, 
Jackson's re-election being a foregone conclusion. In 1836 he declined a nomi- 
nation, and Van Buren was elected. Then followed the panic of 1837, which 
insured the defeat of the party in power, and the election of the Whig candidate 
at the following presidential election ; but the popularity of General Jackson 
had convinced the party managers that success demanded a military hero as a 
candidate; and accordingly General Harrison, "the hero of Tippecanoe," was 
elected, after the famous "Log Cabin and Hard Cider campaign" of 1840. 
This slight was deeply mortifying to Clay, who had counted with confidence 
upon being the candidate of the party. " I am the most unfortunate man in 
the history of parties," he truly remarked: "always run by my friends when 
sure to be defeated, and now betrayed for a nomination when I, or any one 
else, would be sure of an election." 

THE CAMP.\IGN OF 1 844. 

In 1844, however, Clay's opportunity came at last. He was so obviously 
the Whig candidate that there was no opposition. The convention met at 
Baltimore in May, and he was nominated by acclamation, with a shout that 
shook the building. Ever^^thing appeared to indicate success, and his supporters 
regarded his triumphant election as certain. 



1 86 



HENRY CLAY. 



But into the politics of the time had come a new factor— the " Liberty party." 
This had been hitherto considered unimportant ; but the proposed annexation 
of Texas, which had become a prominent question, was opposed by many in 
the North who had hitherto voted with the Whig party. Clay was a slaveholder; 
and though he had opposed the extension of slavery, his record was not satis- 
factory to those who disapproved of the annexation of Texas. By letters and 
speeches he endeavored to conciliate them ; but he was between two fires ; he 
did not succeed in securing their adherence, while his efforts to do so lost him 
the support of many with whom annexation was popular. Then, too, his old 
enemy, Jackson, from his seclusion at the " Hermitage," wrote letters reviving 

the old " bargain and corrup- 
tion " story of 1825. By an 
audacious fraud, his opponents 
posed in Pennsylvania as the 
friends of protection, and the cry 
of " Polk. Dallas, and the tariff 
of 1842 !" was made to do duty 
against him. As the campaign 
progressed, the more clear- 
sighted among his friends, in 
spite of his immense popularity, 
began to feel somewhat less cer- 
tain of the result. But while the 
managers noticed the adverse 
current, the masses of the Whig 
party firmly expected success to 
the very last. It seemed impos- 
sible to them that Henry Clay 
could be defeated by James K. 
Polk. Everything depended on 
jAMF.<; K. POLK. New York. The returns from 

the interior of the State came in 
slowly. There seemed to be still a possibility that heavy Whig majorities in the 
western counties miyht overcome the larcje Democratic vote in the eastern. The 
suspense was painful. People did not go to bed, watching for the mails. When 
at last the decisive news went forth which left no doubt of the result, the Whigs 
broke out in a wail of agony all over the land. " It was," says Nathan Sargent, 
"asif the first-born of every family had been stricken down." The descriptions 
we have of the grief manifested are almost incredible. Tears flowed in abund- 
ance from the eyes of men and v/omen. In the cities and villages the business 
places were almost deserted for a day or two, people gathering together in 




4 



FINANCIAL TROUBLES. 187 

groups to discuss in low tones what had happened. Neither did the victorious 
Democrats indulge in the usual demonstrations of triumph. There was a feeling 
as if a great wrong had been done. The Whigs were fairly stunned by their 
defeat. Many despaired of the republic, sincerely believing that the experiment 
of popular government had failed forever. Almost all agreed that the great 
statesmen of the country would thenceforth always remain excluded from the 
presidency, and that the highest office would be the prize only of second-rate 
politicians. 

During the autumn and early part of the winter of 1844-5 Clay remained 
at Ashland, receiving and answering a flood of letters from all parts of the 
United States, and even from Europe, which conveyed to him expressions of 
condolence and sympathy. Private cares had meanwhile gathered, in addi- 
tion to his public disappointments. He had for some time been laboring 
under great pecuniary embarrassment, owing partly to the drafts which are 
always made upon the purse of a prominent public man, partly to the business 
failure of one of his sons. Aside from other pressing debts, there was a heavy 
mortgage resting on Ashland, and, as an old man of sixty-seven. Clay found 
himself forced to consider whether, in order to satisfy his creditors, it would not 
be necessary to part with his beloved home. Relief came to him suddenly, and 
in an unexpected form. When offering a payment to the bank at Lexington, 
the president informed him that sums of money had arrived from different parts 
of the country to pay off Henry Clay's debts, and that all the notes and the 
mortgage were canceled. Clay was deeply moved. " Who did this ?" he asked 
the banker. All the answer he received was that the givers were unknown, but 
they were presumably " not his enemies." Clay doubted whether he should 
accept the gift, and consulted some of his friends. They reminded him of the 
many persons of historic renown who had not refused tokens of admiration and 
gratitude from their countrymen ; and added that, as he could not discover the 
unknown givers, he could not return the gift ; and, as the gift appeared in the 
shape of a discharged obligation, he could not force the renewal of the debt 
At last he consented to accept, and thus was Ashland saved to him. 

THE COMPROMISE OF 185O. 

The last and greatest public work of Clay's life was the famous Compromise 
of 1850, which, as has often been said, postponed for ten years the great Civil 
War. In 1849 he was unanimously elected United States Senator by the Ken- 
tucky Legislature, in spite of the well-known fact that his views on the slavery 
question were distasteful to a large number of his constituents. The truth is 
that they saw that a storm was gathering, and relied on Clay's wisdom and 
patriotism to meet the emergency. The sentiment against slavery was increas- 
ing. The free States were outstripping the slave States in wealth and popula- 



1 88 



HENRY CLAY. 



tion. It was evident that slavery must have more territory or die. Shut out of 
the Northwest by the Missouri Compromise, it was supposed that a great field 
for its extension had been gained in Texas and the territory acquired from 
Mexico. But now California, a part of this territory which had been counted 
upon for slavery, was populated by a sudden rush of Northern immigration, at- 
tracted by the discovery of gold ; and a State government was organized, with ij, 
a constitution excluding slavery. Thus, instead of adding to the area of slavery, 
the Mexican territory seemed likely to increase the strength of freedom. The 
South was both alarmed and exasperated. Threats of disunion were freely 
made. It was evident that prompt measures must be taken to allay the prevail- 




RESUIFNCE OK A SOl'THKRN I'l.ANTER. 



ing excitement, if disruption were to be avoided. In such an emergency it was 
natural that all eyes should turn to the "great pacificator," Henry Clay. 

When, at the session of 1849-50, he appeared in the Senate, to assist, if 
possible, in removing the slavery question from politics. Clay was an infirm and 
serious, but not sad, old man of seventy-two. He never lost his cheerfulness 
or faith, but he felt deeply for his distracted country. During that memorable 
session of Congress he spoke seventy times. Often extremely sick and feeble, 
scarcely able, with the assistance of a friend's arm, to climb the steps of the 
Capitol, he was never absent on the days when the Compromise was to be 
debated. On the morning on which he began his great speech, he was accom- 



THE CRISIS OF iSjo. 189 

panied by a clerical friend, to whom he said, on reaching the long flight of steps 
leading to the Capitol, "Will you lend me your arm, my friend ? for I find my- 
self quite weak and exhausted this morning." Every few steps he was oblio-ed 
to stop and take breath. " Had you not better defer your speech? " asked the 
clergyman. "My dear friend," said the dying orator, "I consider our country 
in danger; and if I can be the means, in any measure, of averting that danger, 
my health or life is of little consequence." When he rose to speak, it was but 
too evident that he was unfit for the task he had undertaken. But as he 
kindled with his subject, his cough left him, and his bent form resumed all its 
wonted erectness and majesty. He may, in the prime of his strength, have 
spoken with more energy, but never with so much pathos or grandeur. His 
speech lasted two days ; and though he lived two years longer, he never recov- 
ered from the effects of the effort. The thermometer in the Senate chamber 
marked nearly 100°. Toward the close of the second day, his friends repeat- 
edly proposed an adjournment ; but he would not desist until he had given 
complete utterance to his feelings. He said afterward that he was not sure, if 
he gave way to an adjournment, that he should ever be able to resume. 

Never was Clay's devotion to the Union displayed in such thrilling and 
pathetic forms as in the course of this long debate. On one occasion allusion 
was made to a South Carolina hot-head, who had publicly proposed to raise the 
flag of disunion. When Clay retorted by saying, that, if Mr. Rhett had really 
meant that proposition, and should follow it up by corresponding acts, he would 
be a traitor, and added, " and I hope he will meet a traitor's fate," thunders of 
applause broke from the crowded galleries. When the chairman succeeded in 
restoring silence, Mr. Clay made that celebrated declaration which was so fre- 
quently quoted in 1861 : "If Kentucky to-morrow shall unfurl the banner of 
resistance unjustly, I will never fight under that banner. I owe paramount alle- 
giance to the whole Union, a subordinate one to my own State." Again : "The 
Senator speaks of Virginia being my country. This Union, sir, is my country ; 
the thirty States are my country ; Kentucky is my country, and Virginia, no 
more than any State in the Union." And yet again : "There are those who 
think that the Union must be preserved by an exclusive reliance upon love and 
reason. That is not my opinion. I have some confidence in this instrumentality ; 
but, depend upon it, no human government can exist without the power of 
applying force, and the actual application of it in extreme cases." ■' 

"Who can estimate," says Parton, "the influence of these clear and enix 
phatic utterances ten years after ? The crowded galleries, the numberless 
newspaper reports, the quickly succeeding death of the great orator, all aided 
to give them currency and effect. We shall never know how many wavering 
minds they aided to decide in 1861. Not that Mr. Clay really believed the con- 
flict would occur : he was mercifully permitted to die in the conviction that the 



I90 HENRY CLAY. 

Compromise of 1850 had removed all immediate danger, and greatly lessened 
that of the future. Far indeed was he from foreseeing that the ambition of 
Stephen A. Douglas, a man born in New England, calling himself a disciple of 
Andrew Jackson, would within five years destroy all compromises, and render 
all future compromise impossible, by procuring the repeal of the first, — the 
Missouri Compromise of 182 1 ? " 

" Whatever Clay's weaknesses of character and errors in statesmanship 
may have been," says Schurz, "almost everything he said or did was illumined 
by a grand conception of the destinies of his country, a glowing national spirit, 
a lofty patriotism. Whether he thundered against British tyranny on the seas, 
or urged the recognition of the South American sister republics, or attacked 
the high-handed conduct of the military chieftain in the Florida war, or advo- 
cated protection and internal improvements, or assailed the one-man power and 
spoils politics in the person of Andrew Jackson, or entreated for compromise 
and conciliation regarding the tariff or slavery ; whether what he advocated was 
wise or unwise, right or wrong, — there was always ringing through his words a 
fervid plea for his country, a zealous appeal in behalf of the honor and the future 
greatness and glory of the Republic, or an anxious warning lest the Union, and 
with it the greatness and glory of the American people, be put in jeopardy. It 
was a just judgment which he pronounced upon himself when he wrote : " If 
any one desires to know the leading and paramount object of my public life, 
the preservation of the Union will furnish him the key." 




DANIEL WEBSTER, 

THE DEFENDER OE N ATIOISIA.L UNION. 

N THE hall of the United States Senate, on January 26, 1830, 
occurred one of the most memorable scenes in the annals 
of Congress. It was then that Daniel Webster made his 
famous "Reply to Hayne," — that renowned speech which 
has been declared the greatest oration ever made in Con- 
gress, and which, in its far-reaching effect upon the public 
mind, did so much to shape the future destiny of the 
American Union. That speech was Webster's crowning 
work, and the event of his life by which he will be best 
known to posterity. 

Nothing in our history is more striking than the con 
trast between the Union of the time of Washincrton and the Union of the time 
of Lincoln. It was not merely that in the intervening seventy-two years the 
republic had grown great and powerful ; it was that the popular sentiment 
toward the Union was transformed. The old feeling of distrust and jealousy ■ 
had given place to a passionate attachment. It was as though a puny, sickly, 
feeble child, not expected by its parents even to live, had come to be their 
strong defense and support, their joy and pride. A weak league of States had 
become a strong nation; and when in 1861 it v/as attacked, millions of men 
were ready to fight for its defense. What brought about this great change ? 
What was it that stirred this larger patriotism, that gave shape and purpose to 
the growing feeling of national pride and unity ? It was in a great degree 
the work of Daniel Webster. It was he who maintained and advocated the 
theory that the Federal Constitution created, not a league, but a nation, — that 
it welded the people into organic union, supreme and perpetual ; who set forth 
in splendid completeness the picture of a great nation, inseparably united, com- 
manding the first allegiance and loyalty of every citizen ; and who so fostered 
and strengthened the sentiment of union that when the great struggle came, it 
had grown too strong to be overthrown. 

Daniel Webster was born in the year 1782, — soon after the surrender of 
Cornwallis, but before the treaty of peace had formally ended the War of the 

193 



,94 DANIEL WEBSTER. 

Revolution. His father was one of the brave men who fought at Lexington ; 
and like most of the patriots of that day, had a large family to support and 
educate on his rocky New Hampshire farm. Daniel was the youngest of ten 
children, and, like the rest, was early put to work. He was intensely fond of 
books. When at work in his father's saw-mill, he would set a log, and while 
the saw was going through it, would devour a book. There was a small circu- 
lating library in the village, and Daniel read everything it contained, committing 
most of the contents to memory. His talents as a reader were known in the 
neio-hborhood. and the passing teamsters, while they watered their horses, de- 
lighted to get "Webster's boy," with his delicate look and great dark eyes, to 
come out beneath the shade of the trees and read the Bible to them with all the 
force of his childish eloquence. 

Daniel's abilities as a boy in many ways gave promise of his future great- 
ness. His powers of memory were, all through life, most extraordinary. His 
teacher used to tell of one of the facts of his schoolboy days. "On a Satur- 
day, I remember," says the ancient pedagogue, "I held up a handsome new 
jack-knife to the scholars, and said that the boy who would commit to memory 
the greatest number of verses in the Bible by Monday morning should have it. 
Many of the boys did well ; but when it came to Daniel's turn to recite, I found 
that he had committed so much, that, after hearing him repeat some sixty or 
seventy verses, I was obliged to give up, — he telling me that there were several 
chapters yet to recite, that he had learned. Daniel got that jack-knife." 

The story of the sacrifices made by the whole family in order that the boys 
might be educated, bears touching witness to the family affection and unity. 
When fourteen, Daniel was sent to Phillips Exeter Academy, and in the follow- 
ing year he entered Dartmouth College. By teaching school in vacation he 
made his way through college, and also managed to aid his brother Ezekiel. 
He was the foremost man in his class, maintaining this position throughout the 
whole course. In 1801 he began to study law in Salisbury, New Hampshire. In 
1804, to perfect his legal knowledge, he went to Boston, and was admitted to 
the bar in 1805. 

Webster's magnificent appearance. 

No sketch of Daniel Webster is complete or adequate which omits to 
describe his extraordinary personal appearance and presence. " We can but 
half understand his eloquence and its influence," says Mr. Lodge, " if we do not 
carefully study his physical attributes, his temperament and disposition. In face, 
form, and voice, nature did her utmost for Daniel Webster. He seemed to every 
one to be a giant ; that, at least, is the word we most commonly find applied to 
him ; and there is no better proof of his wonderful impressiveness than this fact, 
for he was not a man of extraordinary stature. He was five feet ten inches in 
height, and, in health, weighed a little less than two hundred pounds. These 



HIS PERSONAL MAGNETISM. 



195 



are the proportions of a large man, but there is nothing remarkable about them. 
We must look elsewhere than to mere size to discover why men spoke of 
Webster as a giant. He had a swarthy complexion and straight black hair. 
His head was very large ; at the same time it was of noble shape, with a broad 
and lofty brow, and his features were finely cut and full of massive strength. 
His eyes were extraordinary. They were very large and deep-set, and, when 
he began to rouse himself to action, shone with the deep light of a forge-fire, 
getting ever more glowing as excitement rose. His voice was in harmony with 




FANEUIL HALL, BOSTON, WHICH WEBSTER CALLED "THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY." 



his appearance. It was low and musical in conversation ; in debate it was high 
but full, ringing out in moments of excitement like a clarion, and then sinking 
to deep notes with the solemn richness of organ-tones, while the words were 
accompanied by a manner in which grace and dignity mingled in complete 
accord." 

That indefinable quality which we call personal magnetism, the power of 
impressing by one's personality every human being who comes near, was at its 
height in Mr. Webster. He never, for instance, punished his children, but when 
they did wrong he would send for them and look at them silently. The look, 



,96 DANIEL WEBSTER. 

whether of sorrow or anger, was punishment and rebuke enough. It was the 
same with other children. 

Daniel Webster had surpassing abilities in three great spheres, — those of 
the lawyer, the orator, and the statesman. As a lawyer his most famous argu- 
ments are those in the Dartmouth College case, the White murder case, and the 
"steamboat case," as it was called. A part of his speech in the murder case is 
still printed in school readers, and declaimed on e.xamination days. The Dart- 
mouth College case is one of the most famous in American litigation. While very 
intricate, it may be generally described as a suit to annul the charter of the col- 
lege on the ground that it had failed to carry out the purposes expressed in the 
will of its founder. After trial in the State courts, it was appealed to the United 
States Supreme Court, before which Mr. Webster made his great argument in 
1818. Mr. C. A. Goodrich, who was present, has given the following description 
of the scene : — 

The Supreme Court of the United States held its session, that winter, in a mean apartment of 
moderate size — the Capitol not having been built after its destruction in 1814. The audience, when 
the ca.se came on, w.is therefore small, consisting chiefly of legal men, the elite of the profession 
throughout the country. Mr. Webster entered upon his argument in the calm tone of easy and digni- 
fied conversation. His matter was so completely at his command that he scarcely looked at his 
brief, but went on for more than four hours with a statement so luminous and a chain of reasoning 
so easy to be understood, and yet approaching so nearly to absolute demonstration, that he seemed 
to carry with him every man in his audience, without the slightest effort or weariness on either side. 
It was hardly eloquence, in the strict sense of the term ; it was pure reason. Now and then, for a 
sentence or two, his eye flashed and his voice swelled into a bolder note, as he uttered some 
emphatic thought ; but he instantly fell back into the tone of earnest conversation, which ran 
throughout the great body of his speech. 

A single circumstance will show the clearness and absorbing power of his argument. I had 
observed that Judge Story, at the opening of tlie case, had prepared himself, pen in hand, as if to 
take copious minutes. Hour after hour I saw him fixed in the same attitude, but, so far as I could 
perceive, with not a note on his paper. The argument closed, and I could not discover that he 
had taken a single note. Others around me remarked the same thing ; and it was among the on 
(ills of Washington, that a friend spoke to him of the fact with surprise, when the judge remarked : 
"Everything was so clear, and so easy to remember, that not a note seemed necessary, and, in 
fact, I thought little or nothing about my notes." 

The argument ended. Mr. Webster stood for some moments silent before the court, while 
every eye was fixed intently upon him. At length, addressing the Chief Justice, Marshall, he 
proceeded thus : 

"This, sir, is my case ! It is the case, not merely of that humble institution, it is the ca.se 
of every college in our land. It is more. It is the case of every eleemosynary institution through- 
out our country ; of all those great charities founded by the piety of our ancestors to alleviate 
human misery, and scatter blessings along the pathway of life. It is more ! It is, in some sense, 
the case of every man among us who has property of which he may be stripped ; for the question is 
simply this: Shall our State Legislatures be allowed to take that which is not their own, to turn it 
from its original use, and apply it to such ends and purposes as they, in their discretion, shall see fit. 

" Sir, you may destroy this little institution ; it is weak ; it is in your hands ! I know it is 
one of the lesser lights in the literary horizon of our country. You may put it out. But if )ou do 



THE DARTMOUTH COLLEGE ARGUMENT 

quivered ; his firm che^lcs trelld "hh eldon T " ""'T' '"^" "^^""^^ ^°"'^- ^is lips 

and he seemed struggling to the utmost s It" ' T '"" '"'^ "'^'^ ^^^^^ ' ^^ voice choked, 
him from an unmanf, ,IZ 0^:21 wi I^nof lue^^tT"' ''''' T^'^ ^^'^'^"^ "^'^^'^^ ^^'^ 
tenderness in which he went on to speak of h , Tf T ^ ^^ ^°" '^^ ^^'"^ ^'"°'^'^" ^^ords of 
be mingled throughout with the refo Lt on of f t, ""' V""' ''"'^^"" '"'^^ ^^"^"'^ — ^ to 
privations through which he had n de ht ^ " J^e"' T''"' '^^ ^'^ '^^ ^-'^ and 

naedita^d, a pressure on his heart which s:u;;[;ei;:;;n woSd^^rr^ ''" ' "'^ ^^'^"^ ""^- 

chief jus;cTrrZi;t:iZi:t:u "ZrTCrr'r'' ''-r-' ^" -^--^--y ^p--ie. 

deep furrows of his cheeks expanded !-lth 1 °^ /"' " ^^ '° '^"''^'^ ''^^ ^''^htest whisper, the 

ington at his side, with hi! sma land c ^"f^re ^ '''''T' "''' ''''' ' '''■ J^'^ ^^-^- 
ever saw on any human being, leaning forward wra' ea^TuS Lr" lit ""'"''' ^^^" ' 
the court, at the two extremities pressing .. ,> . , "'"''^ ^°°^' and the remainder of 

below were wrapping themselves^nr Jorer' oSe ^^L^'S IT '''T ''' ^"^'^"- 
every movement of the speaker's face If a painter .o 1^ u ° "^^'"'^ "^"'^ '°°1^' and 

and countenances, and Daniel Webster as IZTj 1 ^T "•''' ''^'"^ °" canvas-those forms 
touching pictures in the history of e^^ence Sne thinJ Vt T'' '' """^'^ '^ °"^ °^ '"- --^ 
not merely on the words uttered, but s'i Imo'e on the ^r ' "'' ''"' '''' P^''^^''^ '^^P-ds 

There was not one among the stong-m ded men of tha!? 7, '1 "'"^ '™ ""^" ""^^^ ^'^-■ 

^n -5~ =rr ^^^^ Chief .stice, said, 

Sir, I know not how others mav fp^l " /„i ■ , •*""ience .— 

him), '•but,formyself, whenTseemrAii Mat? "' "I''"' opponents of the college before 
those who are reiterating stab upon lb I vol ' :"7""^.^^'. ''"^^ ^.sar in the Senate-house, by 
say, '^... „., .,-_!,, And th^ul ^Tso"''.'" '''' '''''' '''^''' ^^^'^ ^^ ^-" to me and 

every :::S„^:-,e!;::;^:e^';;;:;;:,f;;7-^-.hout the room for some moments; 
of thought and feeling. ^ *' '"'^ '""^'"^ S'-^^ually back to his ordinary range 

trust myself .bom it, and I „„„ ,„„ befo„h;„d Z r I, . T'T ^" ' "'' "' •'"' "> 

-pinion. His „.„„o, oarried n,e L,, c.mpi, .1 t \ZT,^' "" """'•'■"' " »' »"» 
»a. ,ri. .ad been a poo, o„„„„, J.f ,bL. ', IppS^V^t ti 'bT "n'f ^^ t",^ "fv^ 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 
198 

. f rnnnnre • but whether it was so absolutely unrivaled as I imagined 

r„?r;„rL^- is^"rj:::>=e" H. .,»^«, or h. .o„e. o, ., .ou, ■ .„„„. .= 

sure till I have read it, for it seems to me '""^.'^'^'^; ,;j.^ Three or four times I thought 

.. I was never so excited by ^^^^^^l^r^^ZZ^X^^^^^ ^-o. that I am aware it is 

.y temples would burst -th t^e g-1^ « ^^^J^ ^f^^jj,^, f,,g„,ents of burning eloquence, 

no connected and compacted whole but a ^0"^™ ^,„,o,t ^C^id to come near 

future generations to the great inherUance wh.ch we have en ojed ^a i ^^ ^^^ 

tive sweetness, and that peculiar smile wh.ch m h,m -- a^^^^ ° '.e p" ncipal people then in 

.hole W-. very great As soon ^l^^J^l^^J^^^J^^^^ hap'pine^ss. But there 
Plymouth crowded about hmi. He w as ull a . , ^.^ ^^ ^^ ^.^^ 

enjoyment from their possession." 

THE MEMORABLE "REPLY TO HAYNE." 

Beyond all doubt. Mr. Webster's greatest and most renowned oratorical 
effort was his speech in reply to Robert Y. Hayne of South Cardtna deWed 
in the Senate on the 26th of January, 1830. "There was, sa>s Edward 
Everett "a very ?reat excitement in Washington, growmg out of the contro- 
vert e of the da>- and the action of the South; and party sp.nt ran uncom- 
monly hi.h. There seemed to be a preconcerted action on the parto the 
Sot^Lrn^.embers to break down the Northern men, and to destroy thetr force 
and influence by a premeditated onslaught. 

.' Mr Hayne's speech was an eloquent one, as all know who ever read it, 
He was considered the foremost Southerner in debate, except Calhoun, who was 
Vice-President and could not enter the arena. Mr. Hayne was the champ.on 
of the Southern side. Those who heard his speech felt much alarm, for two 
reasons ; first on account of its eloquence and power, and second, because ot 
its many personalities. It was thought by many who heard it, and by some of 
Mr. Webster's personal friends, that it was impossible for him to answer tho 

^^^"^ '' i shared a litde myself in that fear and apprehension," said Mr. Everett. 
"I knew from what I heard concerning General Hayne's speech that it was a 
very masterly effort, and delivered with a great deal of power and with an air 
of triumph. I was engaged on that day in a committee of which I was chair- 
man, and could not be present in the Senate. But immediately after the 
adjournment, I hastened to Mr. Webster's house, with, I admit, some little 
trepidation, not knowing how I should find him. But I was quite re-assured in 
a moment after seeing Mr. Webster, and observing his entire calmness. He 
seemed to be as much at his ease and as unmoved as I ever saw him. Indeed. 



THE REPLY TO HAYNE. 199 

at first I was a little afraid from this that he was not quite aware of the magni- 
tude of the contest. I said at once : — 

"'Mr. Hayne has made a speech?' 

" ' Yes, he has made a speech.' 

" ' You reply in the morning?' 

" ' Yes,' said Mr. Webster, ' I do not propose to let the case go by default, 
and without saying a word.' 

" ' Did you take notes, Mr. Webster, of Mr. Hayne's speech.' 

" Mr. Webster took from his vest pocket a piece of paper about as big as 
the palm of his hand, and replied, 'I have it all : that is his speech.' 

"I immediately arose," said Mr. Everett, "and remarked to him that I 
would not disturb him longer ; Mr. Webster desired me not to hasten, as he had 
no desire to be alone : but I left." 

"On the morning of the memorable day," writes Mr. Lodge, "the Senate 
chamber was packed by an eager and excited crowd. Every seat on the floor 
and in the galleries was occupied, and all the available standing-room was filled. 
The protracted debate, conducted with so much ability on both sides, had ex- 
cited the attention of the whole country, and had given time for the arrival of 
hundreds, of interested spectators from all parts of the Union, and especially 
from New England. 

" In the midst of the hush of expectation, in that dead silence which is so 
peculiarly oppressive because it is possible only when many human beings are 
gathered together, Mr. Webster arose. His personal grandeur and his majes- 
tic calm thrilled all who looked upon him. With perfect quietness, unaffected 
apparently by the atmosphere of intense feeling about him, he said, in a low, 
even tone : — 

" ' Mr. President : When the mariner has been tossed for many days in thick weather and on 
an unknown sea, he naturally avails himself of the first pause in the storm, the earliest glance of 
the sun, to take his latitude and ascertain how far the elements have driven him from his true 
course. Let us imitate this prudence ; and, before we float farther on the waves of this debate, 
refer to the point from which we departed, that we may, at least, be able to conjecture where we 
■are now. I ask for the reading of the resolution before the Senate.' 

"This opening sentence was a piece of consummate art. The simple and 
appropriate image, the low voice, the calm manner, relieved the strained excite- 
ment of the audience, which might have ended by disconcerting the speaker if 
it had been maintained. Every one was now at his ease ; and when the monoto- 
nous reading of the resolution ceased, Mr. Webster was master of the situation, 
and had his listeners in complete control." 

With breathless attention they followed him as he proceeded. The strong, 
masculine sentences, the sarcasm, the pathos, the reasoning, the burning appeals 
to love of State and country, flowed on unbroken. As his feelings warmed the 



200 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 



fire came into his eyes ; there was a glow in his swarthy cheek ; his strong right 
arm seemed to sweep away resistlessly the whole phalanx of his opponents, and 
the deep and melodious cadences of his voice sounded like harmonious organ 
tones as they filled the chamber with their music. Who that ever read or heard 
it can forget the closing passage of that glorious speech ? 

" When my eyes shall be turned to behold for the last time the sun in heaven, may I not see 
him shining on the broken and dishonored fragments of a once glorious Union ; on States dis- 
severed, discordant, belligerent ; on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal 
blood ! Let their last feeble and lingering glance behold rather the glorious ensign of the republic, 

now known and honored throughout the 
earth, still full high advanced, its arms 
and trophies streaming in their original 
lustre, not a stripe erased or polluted, not 
a single star obscured ; bearing for its 
motto no such miserable interrogatory as, 
Mliat is all this worth ? or those other 
words of delusion and folly. Liberty first, 
and Union afterwards ; but everywhere, 
spread all over in characters of living 
light, blazing on all its ample folds, as 
they float over the sea and over the land, 
that other sentiment, dear to every true 
American heart, — Liberty and Union, 

NOW AND FOREVER, ONE AND INSEPAR- 
ABLE ! " 

As the last words died away 
into silence, those who had lis- 
tened looked wonderingly at each 
other, dimly conscious that they 
had heard one of the grand 
speeches which are landmarks in 
the history of eloquence ; and the 
men of the North and of New 
England went forth full of the 
pride of victory, for their champion had triumphed, and no assurance was 
needed to prove to the world that this time no answer could be made. 

During all the years of Jackson's and Van Buren's administrations, Mr. 
Webster continued in the United States Senate. He opposed the innovations 
and usurpations of Jackson's reign ; he was dignified, prudent, conservative. 
" Amid the flighty politics of the time," says Parton, " there seemed one solid 
thing in America as long as he sat in the arm-chair of the Senate Chamber." 

Upon Harrison's inauguration in 1841, Mr. Webster became Secretary of 
State, which office he held under President Tyler until 1843. During this time 




JOHN TYLER. 



THE SEVENTH OF MARCH SPEECH. 201 

he negotiated the famous treaty with Lord Ashburton, which settled a dispute 
of long standing with England over the Maine boundary. In 1843 he resigned 
this position. He supported Clay for the Presidency in 1844, opposing the 
annexation of Texas, because it would involve the extension of slavery. In 
1845 he was again elected to the Senate, and opposed the prosecution of the 
Mexican war, the real purpose of which was the increase of slave territory. 

THE CRISIS OF 1850. 

In 1850 the contest over slavery had become so fierce that it threatened to 
break up the Union. The advocates of slavery were bent upon its extension, 
while its opponents wished to restrict it to the States where it already existed. 
Webster was always opposed to slavery ; but in the crisis of 1850, he thought 
that all other measures should be subordinate to the preservation of the Union. 
No one had done more than he to strengthen and perpetuate the Union ; but 
it was his conviction that it would be destroyed if the struggle over slavery 
came to an issue at that time. Every year the attachment of the people to the 
Union was growing stronger. Every year the free States were gaining upon 
the slave States in strength, population, and power. If the contest over slavery 
could be averted, or even postponed, slavery would decline and ultimately die 
out, and the Union be preserved ; while if the conflict were precipitated, the 
Union would be destroyed, and slavery perpetuated. Accordingly, he gave his 
support to the Compromise measures ; and on the 7th of March, 1850, he made 
in advocacy of them the most famous speech of his life, before a great audience, 
hushed to death-like stillness, in the Senate chamber. 

" Mr. President," Mr. Webster began, " I wish to speak to-day, not as a Massachusetts man, 
nor as a Northern man, but as an American, and a member of the Senate of the United States, — a 
body to which tlie country looks, with confidence, for wise, moderate, patriotic, and healing 
counsels. It is not to be denied that we live in the midst of strong agitations, and are surrounded 
by very considerable dangers to our institutions of government. The imprisoned winds are let 
loose. The East, the West, the North, and the stormy South, all combine to throw the whole 
ocean into commotion, to toss its billows to the skies, and disclose its profoundest depths. ... I 
have a part to act, not for my own security or safety, for I am looking out for no fragment upon 
which to float away from the wreck, if wreck there must be, but for the good of the whole, and the 
preservation of the whole; and there is that which will keep me to my duty during this struggle, 
whether the sun and the stars shall appear, or shall not appear, for many days. I speak to-day for 
the preservation of the Union. ' Hear me for my cause.' I speak to-day out of a solicitous and 
anxious heart, for the restoration to the country of that quiet and that harmony which make the 
blessings of this Union so rich and so dear to us all." 

The Compromise measures before the Senate included two provisions which 
were particularly odious to the North, — one for the extension of slavery to the 
territory purchased from Mexico ; the other for a more stringent law for the 
capture and return of fugitive slaves. Webster in his speech advocated the 



202 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 



acceptance of these provisions as part of the Compromise, and in doing so gave 
great offence to many supporters in the North, who had looked upon him as a 
steady opponent of slavery, who would never yield an inch to its exactions. 
In his speech Webster maintained that the constitution recognized the right of 
the master to the return of his escaped slave, and that its obligations could not 
be evaded without a violation of good faith. As to the territories, he argued 
that slavery was already by nature excluded from New Mexico, which was not 
adapted to the products of slave labor, and that to "re-enact a law of God," 
by formally excluding it, was a needless irritation to the South. Although he 

supported his position with great 
force, his speech was nevertheless 
regarded by anti-slavery men in 
the North as a surrender to the 
slave power, made with a view to 
securing support in the South as 
a candidate for the Presidency. 
He was denounced as recreant 
to the cause of freedom, and ac- 
cused of having sold himself to 
the South. These charges did 
much to embitter the last years 
of his life ; but he firmly adhered 
to his course, supported the Com- 
promise measure in Congress, 
and made a number of speeches 
in its favor throughout the North. 
After his death there was a grad- 
ual reaction, and many who had 
condemned him came to admit 
that his course, whether wise or 
not, was at least guided by pure 
and patriotic motives. 
In July, 1S50, while the great Compromise was still before Congress, 
Webster was appointed by President Fillmore Secretary of State, which office 
he held until his death. His summer home was an immense farm at Marshfield, 
near Plymouth, Massachusetts, and for many years he had taken the keenest in- 
terest in all the operations of the farm. A friend who was often with him tells 
how he enjoyed his catde, and how, on one occasion, after each animal was 
secured in his place, Mr. Webster amused himself by feeding them with ears 
of corn from an unhusked pile lying on the barn floor. As his son was trying 
to keep warm by playing with the dog, he said : — 




MILLARD FILLMORE. 



HIS LAST HOURS. 



203 



" You do not seem, my son, to take much interest in this ; but, for my part " 
(and here he broke an ear and fed the pieces to the oxen on his right and left, 
and watched them as they crunched it), "I Hke it. I would rather be here than 
in the Senate," adding, with a smile which showed all his white teeth, "I think 
it better company." 

In May, 1852, while driving near his Marshfield home, Mr. Webster was 
thrown from the carriage and seriously injured. Although he recovered suffi- 
ciently to visit Washington afterward, he never regained his health, and a few 
months later, in the autumn of 1852, he died at Marshfield. His death and 
burial were scenes of sublime pathos. In his last hours he manifested a strong 
desire to be conscious of the actual approach of death, and his last words were, 
^^ I still live." An immense concourse gathered at his funeral. It was a clear, 
beautiful autumn day, and his body was brought from the house and placed on 
the lawn, under the blue sky, where for several hours a stream of people of 
every class moved past, to gaze for the last time upon his majestic features. 
One, a plain farmer, was heard to say in a low voice, as he turned away, 
"Daniel Webster, without you the world will seem lonesome." 

The spot where Webster reposes is upon elevated land, and overlooks 
the sea, his mammoth farm, the First Parish Church, and most of the town of 
Marshfield, wide spreading marshes, forests remote and near, the tranquil river, 
and glistening brooks. On a pleasant day the sands of Cape Cod can be 
descried from it, thirty miles directly to the east, where the Pilgrims first moored 
their ship. The spot is perfectly retired and quiet, nothing being usually heard 
but the solemn dirge of the ocean and the answering sighs of the winds. It is 
the spot of all others for his resting-place. 

All in a temperate air, a golden light. 

Rich with October, sad with afternoon, 
Fitly his frame was laid, with rustic rite, 

To rest amid the ripened harvest boon. 
He loved the ocean's mighty murmur deep, 
And this shall lull him through his dreamless sleep. 




El 




OLD GATES AT ST. AUGUSTINE, FLORIDA. 



JOHN C. CALHOUN, 

THE QREAT ADVOCATE OR STATES RIQHTS. 




FEW years ago an elderly man, who had fought in the 
Union army through the great civil war of 1861, was listen- 
ing to some schoolboys rehearsing their history lesson. 
"When was the first blow struck at the Union?" 
asked one. 

"On April 13th, 1861, when Fort Sumter was fired 
upon by batteries in Charleston harbor," was the answer. 
" No !" thundered the old soldier, breaking in ; " the 
first blow at the Union was struck in 1832, by John C. Cal- 
houn; and if Andrew Jackson had been President in i860, instead 
of James Buchanan, there would have been no gun fired on Fort 
Sumter, I can tell you ! Don't forget that bit of history, boys !" 

John Caldwell Calhoun is an absolutely unique figure in American 
His political life was devoted to the establishment and perpetuation of 
He believed that institution beneficial alike to white and black, to North 
and South, — in a word, that slavery was morally and politically right, and that the 
welfare of the country was bound up with its continuance. That he was sincere 
in this conviction cannot be doubted. He was one of the most honest and up- 
right of men ; there was no concealment or pretence in him. As a consequence 
of his purity and ability, his influence was immense. His own State accepted 

207 



history, 
slavery. 



208 



JOHN C. CALHOUN. 



his doctrines and followed his lead with unquestioning faith ; and it is not too 
much to say that the great conflict over slavery and disunion was in great 
measure due to the doctrines which for a quarter of a century he unceasingly 
advocated. 

Calhoun was born in Abbeville, South Carolina, in 1782, — the same year 
as his great adversary, Daniel Webster. It was just at tlie close of the Revo- 
lution. The South, which had borne the brunt of the war in its last years, was 
worn out and impoverished. Calhoun's father, Patrick Calhoun, who had immi- 
grated from the north of Ireland, died when his son was thirteen. Neverthe- 
less, Calhoun managed to work 
his way through Yale College, 
where he won distinguished hon- 
ors. He used to relate that in 
his senior year, when he was one 
of the very few in his class who 
maintained democratic opinions, 
President Dwight asked him, 
'■ What is the legitimate source 
of power?" "The people," an- 
swered Calhoun. Dr. Dwight 
combated this opinion ; Calhoun 
replied ; and the whole hour of 
recitation was consumed in the 
debate. Dr. Dwight was so 
much struck with the ability dis- 
played by the student that he 
remarked to a friend that Cal- 
houn had talent enough to be a 
President of the United States. 
He did not foresee that Cal- 
houn would imbibe ideas which, 
logically carried out, would leave 
no United States in existence to require a President. 

After two years in the South Carolina Legislature, Calhoun was elected to 
Congress in 18 10, where he served until 181 7, when he became Secretary of 
War under President Monroe. In 1824 he was elected Vice-President, under 
John Ouincy Adams, and again in 1828, when Andrew Jackson was elected 
President. In 1832 he resigned the Vice-Presidency to become Senator from 
South Carolina, and remained in the Senate during nearly all the remainder of 
his life. 

In 1828 Congress passed a tariff bill by which the protective duties were 




JAMES MONROE. 



THE NULLIFICATION DEBATE. 209 

considerably increased. This bill was bitterly opposed in the South, where it 
was styled the "Tariff of Abominations;" and on its passage Calhoun prepared 
a most remarkable paper, called the "South Carolina Exposition," in which he 
maintained that the Constitution authorized Congress to levy tariff taxes only 
for revenue ; that protective taxes were therefore unconstitutional ; and that a 
State had the right and power to declare an unconstitutional law null and void, 
and to forbid its execution in that State. It was the purpose of the people of 
South Carolina to agitate for the repeal of the obnoxious law ; and, in case 
their efforts should fail, to resort to the remedy of " nullification." "This Ex- 
position," says Parton, "was the beginning of our woe, — the baleful ft'g^ from 
which were hatched nullification, treason, civil war, and the desolation of the 
Southern States." It was issued in December, 1828. In March, 1829, the new 
government, Jackson at its head, came into power. Calhoun, being re-elected 
Vice-President, still held his chair as President of the Senate. 

In 1829 the long debate over the question, Does the Constitution make us 
one sovereign nation, or only a league of sovereign States ? was at its height. 
That debate had begun as soon as the Constitution was ratified, in 1 788, and it 
continued until the outbreak of the war in 1861. For many years the theory of 
a "compact," from which a State might withdraw at will, was maintained by 
various advocates, of .whom Calhoun was the foremost. He supported his view 
with great ability and ingenuity, and with industry and devotion which never 
flagged or wavered. In his own State his doctrines were accepted with almost 
complete unanimity ; and the Senators and Representatives in Congress from 
South Carolina were all disciples of the Calhoun school. In the Senate, as he 
was the presiding officer, he could not take an active part in debate ; but he had 
an able supporter in General Robert Y. Hayne, who was a strong and eloquent 
speaker. In January, 1830, the agitation in Congress culminated in the famous 
encounter of Hayne with Daniel Webster, who in his great speech on Foot's 
Resolution utterly demolished the theory of nullification as a constitutional right, 
and made his never-to-be-forgotten plea for indissoluble union. Hayne had 
maintained that nullification was a constitutional remedy, — a " reserved right." 
Webster tore this theory into shreds and scattered it to the winds. With a 
power of satire under which Hayne writhed in his seat, he drew a picture of 
practical nullification ; he showed that an attempt to nullify the laws of the 
nation was treason, — that it led directly and necessarily to armed force, and 
was nothing else than revolution. 

And to revolution South Carolina now proceeded. The tariff of 1828 was 
not repealed ; and after the presidential election of 1832, under the direction of 
Calhoun, who had resigned the Vice-Presidency, a convention of the people of 
the State was called, which passed the famous Ordinance of Nullification, 
declaring the tariff law of 1828 null and void in South Carolina. General 



2IO 



JOHN C. CALHOUN. 



Hayne, who had been United States Senator, was made Governor of South 
Carolina ; and Calhoun was elected to the Senate of the United States. On 
the passage of the famous Ordinance of Nullification by the people of South 
Carolina, the excitement throughout the Union became intense. The apprehen- 
sion of civil war, and of the dissolution of the Union, prevailed everywhere. 

On the loth of December, 1832, General Jackson issued his memorable 
proclamation against nullification. This was followed by Governor Hayne's 

counter -proclamation, de- 
fending the position as- 
sumed by the State, and 
calling out twelve thousand 
volunteers. The crisis evi- 
dently approached. The 
United States troops were 
concentrated, in some force, 
at Augusta and Charleston, 
seemingly for the purpose of 
repressing any insurrection- 
ary or rebellious movement 
in the State ; while on the 
other side equal preparation 
was made. The militia in 
certain sections of the State 
were called out and drilled, 
muskets were put in order, 
swords cleaned and sharp- 
ened, and depots of provi- 
sions and supplies estab- 
lished. Officers, natives of 
the State, in the United 
States army and navy, con- 
templated resigning their 
commissions, and taking up 
arms in defense of the State ; and some foreign officers, then in the country, 
actually tendered their services to the governor, against the forces of the 
general government. 

On the 4th of January, 1833, Mr. Calhoun took his seat in the Senate of 
the Union, as the great champion of nullification. This was the most import- 
ant period in his political life — a period when the whole resources of his intellect 
were put forth in defense of his favorite doctrine. His most powerful oratorical 
effort was made on the 15th and i6th of February, 1832, against a bill "further 




L.MUANCK TO A COTTON-YARD, NEW ORLEANS. 



SPEECH ON THE FORCE BILL. 211 

to provide for the collection of duties on imports." This was the celebrated 
" Force Bill," the object of which was to enable the Federal executive to enforce 
the collection of the revenue in South Carolina. 

On the 15th of February, Mr. Calhoun addressed the Senate, beginning as 
follows : " Mr. President, 1 know not which is most objectionable, the provisions 
of the bill, or the temper in which its adoption has been urged. If the extra- 
ordinary powers with which the bill proposes to clothe the Executive, to the 
utter prostration of the Constitution and the rights of the States, be calculated 
to impress our minds with alarm at the rapid progress of despotism in our 
country, the zeal with which every circumstance calculated to misrepresent or 
exaggerate the conduct of Carolina in the controversy is seized on, with a view 
to excite hostility against her, but too plainly indicates the deep decay of that 
brotherly feeling which once existed between these States, and to which we are 
indebted for our beautiful Federal system. . . . 

"It has been said by the senator from Tennessee (Mr. Grundy) to be a 
measure of peace ! Yes, such peace as the wolf gives to the lamb — the kite to 
the dove. Such peace as Russia gives to Poland, or death to its victim ! A 
peace, by extinguishing the political existence of the State, by awing her into 
an abandonment of the exercise of every power which constitutes her a sovereign 
community. It is to South Carolina a question of self-preservation ; and I pro- 
claim it, that should this bill pass, and an attempt be made to enforce it, it will 
be resisted at every hazard — even that of death itself Death is not the greatest 
calamity : there are others still more terrible to the free and brave, and among 
them may be placed the loss of liberty and honor. There are thousands of her 
brave sons who, if need be, are prepared cheerfully to lay down their lives in 
defense of the State, and the great principles of constitutional liberty for which 
she is contending. God forbid that this should become necessary ! It never 
can be, unless this government is resolved to bring the question to extremity, 
when her gallant sons will stand prepared to perform the last duty — to die 
nobly. 

" In the same spirit, we are told that the Union must be preserved, without 
regard to the means. And how is it proposed to preserve the Union ? By 
force ! Does any man in his senses believe that this beautiful structure — this, 
harmonious aggregate of States, produced by the joint consent of all — can be 
preserved by force ? Its very introduction will be the certain destruction of this 
Federal Union. No, no. You cannot keep the States united in their constitu- 
tional and Federal bonds by force. Force may, indeed, hold the parts together, 
but such union would be the bond between master and slave : a union of exac- 
tion on one side, and of unqualified obedience on the other." 

In spite of Mr. Calhoun's efforts, the "Force Bill " was passed; and it is 
said that President Jackson privately warned him that the moment news was 



212 



JOHN C. CALHOUN. 



received of resistance to the Government in South Carolina, he (Calhoun) would 
be arrested on a charge of treason. At the same time, however, important 
concessions were made to South Carolina, by which the threatened conflict was 
avoided. In February, Henry Clay introduced in Congress a compromise 
tariff bill, by which the existing duties were to be decreased each year until they 
reached a minimum of twenty per cent, in 1842. Accordingly, each party in 




A "CORN SHUCKING 



the controversy claimed to have triumphed ; and the crisis passed, without 
finally and formally settling the question of nullification. 



THE SLAVERY AGITATION. 

During Jackson's administration slavery became the chief question of poli- 
tics. Texas achieved her independence, and the question of her annexation to 
the United States as a slave State caused an gxciting and angry contest. In the* 
House of Representatives, John Ouincy Adams began his famous crusade for 
the right of petition, and the contest over petitions for the abolition of slavery 
convulsed the House. In all these years of stormy debate, Calhoun was always 
the defender of slavery. He made no apologies, but proclaimed it a righteous, 
just, and beneficial institution ; and he regarded all efforts to abolish or restrict 
it, or to prevent the catching and return of fugitives, as an interference with the 
rights of the slave States which would justify their secession from the Union. 



MISS MARTINEAU'S SKETCH. 213 

Miss Harriet Martineau, who visited the United States at this time, has re- 
corded in her " Retrospect of Western Travel " her impressions of INIr. Calhoun. 
She writes : — 

"Mr. Calhoun followed, and impressed me very strongly. While he kept to the question, 
what he said was close, good, and moderate, though delivered in rapid speech, and with a voice 
not sufficiently modulated. But when he began to reply to a taunt of Colonel Benton's, that he 
wanted to be President, the force of his speaking became painful. He made protestations which it 
seemed to strangers had better have been spared, ' that he would not turn on his heel to be Presi- 
dent,' and that 'he had given up all for his own brave, magnanimous little State of South Carolina.' 
While thus protesting, his eyes flashed, his brow seemed charged with thunder, his voice became 
almost a bark, and his sentences were abrupt, intense, producing in the auditory a sort of laugh 
which is squeezed out of people by an application of a very sudden mental force. 

" Mr. Calhoun's countenance first fixed my attention ; the splendid eye, the straight forehead, 
surmounted by a load of stiff, upright, dark hair, the stern brow, the inflexible mouth,— it is one of 
the most remarkable heads in the country." 

Miss Martineau's sketch of the three great statesmen of the time is espe- 
cially interesting : — 

" Mr. Clay sitting upright on the sofa, with his snuff-box ever in his hand, would discourse for 
many an hour in his even, soft, deliberate tone, on any one of the great subjects of American policy 
which we might happen to start, always amazing us with the moderation of estimate and speech 
which so impetuous a nature has been able to attain. Mr. Webster, leaning back at his ease, telling 
stories, cracking jokes, shaking the sofa with burst after burst of laughter, or smoothly discoursing 
to the perfect felicity of the logical part of one's constitution, would illuminate an evening now 
and then. Mr. Calhoun, the cast-iron man, who looks as if he had never been born and could 
never be extinguished, would come in sometimes to keep our understanding on a painful stretch for 
a short while, and leave us to take to pieces his close, rapid, theoretical, illustrated talk, and see 
what we could make of it. We found it usually more worth retaining as a curiosity, than as either 
very just or useful. 

" I know of no man who lives in such utter intellectual solitude. He meets men and 
harangues by the fireside as in the Senate; he is wrought like a piece of machinery, set going 
vehemently by a weight, and stops while you answer ; he either passes by what you say, or twists it 
into a suitability with what is in his head, and begins to lecture again." 

Miss Martineau also saw Calhoun in South Carolina, where he was the 
political teacher and guide, and the acknowledged chief: 

■ " During my stay in Charleston, Mr. Calhoun and his familv arrived from Congress and 

there was something very striking in the welcome he received, like that of a chief returned to the 
bosom of his clan. He stalked about like a monarch of the little domain, and there was certainly 
an air of mysterious understanding between him and his followers." 

The agitation of the slavery question, from 1835 to 1850, was chiefly the 
work of this one man. " The labors of Mr. Garrison and Mr. Wendell Phillips," 
saysParton, "might have borne no fruit during their lifedme, if Calhoun had not 
made it his business to supply them with material, ' I mean to force the issue 
upon the North,' he once wrote ; and he did force it. The denial of the riaht 
13 '' 



214 



JOHN C. CALHOUN. 



of petition, the annexation of Texas, the forcing of slavery into the Territories. 
— these were among the issues upon which he hoped to unite the South in his 
favor, while retaining enough strength at the North to secure his election to the 
Presidency. Failing in all his schemes of personal advancement, he died in 1850, 
still protesting that slavery is divine, and that it must rule this country or ruin it." 
Calhoun's life came to an end in March, 1850, before the Compromise Bill 
of that year had once more postponed the "irrepressible conflict." On the 4th 




COLONIAL MANSION. RtsilJl-.MJK UH IHK l.Alh \S11, 1.1AM m l.l. I'Kl.M.LK, fcsij., l_H AKLtbTU.N, S. C. 



of March his last speech was read in the Senate by a friend, he then being too 
weak to deliver it. Three days afterward, when Webster delivered his famous 
" /th of March speech," Calhoun literally rose from his dying bed that he might 
be present, and sat for the last time in his accustomed seat, his rigid face and 
intense gaze giving him a weird and unearthly aspect. On the 24th of the same 
month he died ; and his ashes were taken to Charleston, there to mingle with 
the soil of the .State to which he had given a life's devotion, and which had re- 
warded him with unfailino- love and honor. 




SAMUEL HOUSTON, 

^KD THE S-rORV OK XE.XAN mDEF>ENDENCE>. 

F THE thirty-one States of the Union which have 
been added to the original thirteen, Texas is distin- 
guished as the only one which previously had a 
separate and independent national existence • and 
no more picturesque or unique character is found 
_ among American public men than he whose name is 
inseparably associated with that of Texas,— her leader 
her defender, her President, her Governor,-Samuei 
,,. Houston. 

■ ■ K, , -u '" *" '"f^P^"-' of *e eighteenth century the rich 

but w,ld regions of Kentucky and Tennessee were the para- 

.ates^en of a ne^anl "l^ t^pV-^:: hke^tl:::: 'oj "" 1 T " 
-strong, brave, and hardy, original fnd ready of tLiutrbu'tL^ ie eX a"' 
wa 'of tiir'cTss" *'=/^=-\->'' ■.■'"^d^fe- of their qualities.' "Houston 

meir language. He always was looked up to by the Indians as a leader A 
Z .pars Llerb— - 1^05^ ..^ ^^^ '^^^^ 

182, a-nd 18.5, and in .827, when thirty-four years old, was elected Governor 

217 



2l8 



SAMUEL HOUSTON. 



of Tennessee. His progress had been wonderfully rapid ; he was one of the 
most popular men of his State ; he might aspire to the highest positions, with 
every prospect of success. But in 1829 an event occurred which completely 
changed the course of his life. 

In January, 1829, he married Miss Eliza Allen, a young lady of excellent 
family, and of the highest character. The union seems to have been as unhappy 
as it was short. In less than three months a separation took place, which filled 
society with excitement. Various reports flew through the State, which divided 
the people into two hostile parties, and inflamed popular feeling to the last point 




A SCE.NE UN TEXAS PLAINS — DISl'UTE OVKR A BRAND. 



of excitement. The friends of the lady loaded the name of Governor 1 louston 
with odium. He was charged with every degree of crime. The very ignorance 
of the community about the affair, by increasing the mystery which hung over 
it, only made it seem the more terrible. 

In the meantime, Houston did not off'er a single denial of a single calumny 
— would neither vindicate himself before the public, nor allow his friends to do 
it for him. Not a word ever fell from his lips that cast a shade upon her charac- 
ter, nor did he ever allow an unkind breath against her in his presence. 

In consequence of this unhappy affair, Houston determined to forsake 



TEXAS AND MEXICO. 



219 



civilized life. He resigned the office of governor, turned his back upon the haunts 
of white men, and took refuge in the forests among his old friends, the Indians. 
While roving in his youth among the Cherokees, he had found a friend in their 
chief, Oolooteka, who adopted him as his son, and gave him a corner in his 
wiofwam. The chief with his tribe afterward removed to Arkansas. Durincr 
their separation of more than ten years, he and Houston had continually inter- 
changed tokens of their kind feeling ; and Houston now turned his face to his 
Indian home, knowing that he wo'.ild be greeted there with the old chief's 
blessing. For three years he lived among the Indians, and as one of them ; and 
from his retreat in the southwest he watched with keen interest the progress of 
events in the fertile country across the Mexican frontier. 

In the year 182 1, Mexico, which had up to that time belonged to Spain, 
declared herself independent, and 
took vigorous measures to induce 
the settlement 
and cultivation 
of her unoccu- 
pied territory. 
Texas soon be- 
gan to be popu- 
lated by immi- 
pfration, a laree 
part of which was 
from the United 
States. By the 
year 1830 there 
were about twenty 
thousand Ameri- 
can settlers there, 

who were unanimous in their detestation of Mexican government, and in a state 
of chronic revolt. In 1832 they rose against the Mexicans, and, after several 
battles, drove all the troops out of the country. Houston saw what was going 
on, and determined to cast in his lot with the Texans. 

There can be little doubt that there was an understanding between Houston 
and President Jackson, and that the former had the aid and countenance of the 
President in his effort to help achieve Texan independence. More territory 
was needed in the United States for the extension of slavery. It must be sought 
on the South ; for slavery was shut out of the northern territory by the Mis- 
souri Compromise. {See Henry Cl.w.) The inhabitants of Texas were mainly 
immigrants from the United .States. If the country were detached from Mexico, 
the people would undoubtedly seek to be annexed to the Union. They wanted 




AN OLD SPANISH HOUSE. 



220 SAMUEL HOUSTON. 

a leader. Houston resolved to be their leader ; and with this view he left the 
wio-wam of the Cherokee chief, and set out for Texas in December, 1832. 

For two years after Houston joined fortunes with Texas there was com- 
parative quiet ; but immigration went on in a steadily increasing stream, and 
the sentiment for independence grew stronger every day. The Mexican govern- 
ment, in fear of the growing strength of Texas, ordered that the people should 
be disarmed, — a decree which aroused instant rebellion. A company of Mexi- 
can soldiers sent to the little town of Gonzales, on the Guadalupe, to remove a 
small brass six-pounder, was met a few miles from the town by one hundred 
and ei'dity Texans, who fell upon them with such vigor that they turned and 
fled, losing several men. No Texan was killed. This battle was called "the 
Lexington of Texas." 

Then war broke out again more furiously than ever. The Mexican soldiers, 
who were under weak and incompetent commanders, were again dispersed and 
driven out of the country. But now Santa Anna himself, the Mexican Dictator, 
an able general, but false and cruel, took the field. With an army of several 
thousand men, he crossed the Rio Grande, and marched against the Texans. 

The town of Bexar, on the San Antonio River, was defended by a garrison 
of about one hundred and seventy-five men. Among them were two whose 
names are still famous, — David Crockett, the renowned pioneer, and Colonel 
James Bowie, noted for his murderous "bowie-knife," his duels, and his deeds 
of valor and shame. The company was commanded by Colonel W. Barrett 
Travis, a brave young Texan. On the approach of Santa Anna, they took 
refusfe in the Alamo, about half a mile to the north of the town. 

The Alamo was an ancient Franciscan mission of the eighteenth century. 
It covered an area of about three acres, surrounded by walls three feet thick and 
eight feet high. Within the walls were a stone church and several other build- 
ings. For two weeks it withstood Santa Anna's assaults. A shower of bombs 
and cannon-balls fell incessantly within the walls. At last, after a brave defense 
by the little garrison, the fortress was captured, in the early morning of Sunday, 
March 6th, 1836. After the surrender, Travis, Bowie, and Crockett, with all 
their companions, were by Santa Anna's especial command massacred in cold 
blood. 

But this was not the worst ; a few days afterward a company of over four 
hundred Texans, under Colonel Fannin, besieged at Goliad, were induced to 
surrender, under Santa Anna's solemn promises of protection. After the sur- 
render they were divided into several companies, marched in different directions 
a short distance out of the town, and shot down like dogs by the Mexican 
soldiers. Not a man escaped. 

While these horrible events were taking place, Houston was at Gonzales, 
with a force of less than four hundred men. Meetings were held in the differ- 




FALL OF THE ALAMO. 



,,2 SAMUEL HOUSTON. 

ent settlements to raise an army to resist the Mexican invasion ; and a conven- 
tion of the people issued a proclamation declaring Texas a free and independent 
republic. It was two weeks before General Houston received intelligence of 
the atrocious massacres at Bexar and Goliad, and of Santa Anna's advance. 
The country was in a state of panic. Settlers were everywhere abandoning 




THE GOLIAD MASSACRE. 



^,■ 



their homes, and fleeing in terror at the approach of the Mexican soldiers. 
Houston's force of a few hundred men was the only defense of Texas ; and 
even this was diminished by frequent desertion from the ranks. The cause of 
Texan freedom seemed utterly hopeless. 

In order to gain time, while watching his opportunity for attack, Houston 



TRIUMPH OF SAN JACINTO. 

slowly retreated before the Mexican army. After waiting two weeks for rein- 
forcements, he moved toward Buffafo Bayou, a deep, narro%v stream connect n. 
w.th the San Jacmto R.ver. about twenty miles southeast of the present chy of 
Houston^ Here he expected to meet the Mexican army. The hnes bein. 
formed. General Ho..ton made one of his most impassioned and e oquen' 

Soon the Mexican bugles rang out over the prairie, announcing the advance 
guard of the enemy, almost eighteen hundred strong. The rank and file of the 
patnots was less than seven hundred and fifty men. Their disadvantages but 
erved to mcrease the enthusiasm of the soldiers ; and when their general said 
Men^ there, the enemy; do you wish to fight?" the universaf shou w"s 
J:i'l„:r^' ^'^"'" '' ''''' "—'-' '' '- liberty or death ; r..2 
At the moment of attack, a Heutenant came galloping up, his horse cov- 
ered w,th foa.B, and shouted along the hnes, '' I've^ut doSn Vince s brTd'" 
Each army had used this bridge in coming to the battle-field, and General 

vanquished ''' "'°"' ''^" ^"^^"^'"^ ^" "^^P^ ^' --P^ ^° ^he 

Santa Anna's forces were in perfect order, awaiting the attack, and reserved 
their fire until the patnots were within sixty paces of their works. Then they 
poured forth a volley, which went over the heads of the attackers, though a ball 
struck General Houston s ankle, inflicting a very painful wound. Though suf- 
fenng and bleeding General Houston kept his saddle during the entire Action 
The patnots held their fire until it was given to the enemy almost in their very 
bosoms, and then, having no time to reload, made a general rush upon the foe 
who were altogether unprepared for the furious charge. The patriots not hav- 
mg bayonets clubbed their rifles. About half-pa^t four the Mexican rout 
began, and closed only with the night. Seven of the patriots were killed and 
^|enty-three were wounded, while the Mexicans had six hundred and thirty-two 
killed and wounded; and seven hundred and thirty, among whom was lanta 
Anna, were made prisoners. 

Thevictoryof San Jacinto struck the fetters forever off the hands of Texas 
and drove back the standard of Mexico beyond the Rio Grande, never to 
return except in predatory and transient incursions. General Houston became 
at once the leading man in Texas, almost universal applause following him. 
As soon as quiet and order were restored, he was made the first President of 
the new republic, under the Constitution adopted November 1835 

General Houston's first term as President of Texas cfosed in December, 
1838. Dunng the term of his successor. General Houston served two years in 
the Congress of the young republic. He did much good to the country, on one 



224 



SAMUEL HOUSTON. 



occasion preventing an actual dissolution of the Texan government by the 
magic of his great speech in Congress, when that body was just on the point 
of adjourning sine die. 

On May 9, 1840, he married his second wife, Miss Margaret M. Lea, 

of Alabama, a most 
worthy woman, who 
had a great inHuence 
for good over her 
husband. He often 
said that to her he 
owed his chief honor 
and happiness. He 
was deeply attached 
to her, and, when a 
Senator at Washing-- 
ton, invariably spent 
his Sunday after- 
noons in writing^ to 
her and his family. 
One of the ques- 
1 tions presented by 
our Presidential elec- 
tion of 1844 was the 
annexation of Texas, 
■which took place in 
1845 ; and e.x-Presi- 
dent Houston and his 
fast friend and com- 
patriot, General 
Thomas J. Rusk, 
were made her first 
Senators, taking their 
seats in January, 
1846. These men 
of commanding mien 
produced something 
of a sensation, com- 
ing to sit in the na- 
tion's council-house as the representatives of a people who had, of their own free 
will, given up their national existence to become merely an integral part of our 
Union. Houston's course in the Senate was conservative. He voted for the 




IITKING IIRUNCHO. 



GOVERNOR OF TEXAS. 225 

Oregon boundary compromise, and, if he could, would have averted the war with 
Mexico. After the passage of the compromise measures of 1850, there was no 
more popular man in the South than General Houston, and, in 1852, he was a 
prominent candidate for the Presidency before the Democratic convention. He 
had placed himself in strong opposition to the secession spirit shown in 1850, thus 
losing some of his most influential Southern supporters. In 1859 he was made 
the Union candidate for governor. With patriotic zeal he declared, " ' The 
Constitution and the Union' is my only platform," and made but one speech, 
which was the best of his life. He was elected by more than 2000 majority. 

Almost the first act of the new governor was to send in a sterling message 
in reply to the proposition made by South Carolina in 1S60 for a convention of 
slaveholding States, with a view to secession. Houston's every effort and 
sentiment were for the preservation of the Union ; and his conduct as gover- 
nor, in standinsj almost alone against the tide of secession, was not less o-lorious 
than when, a quarter of a century before, he had led his little army against the 
forces of Santa Anna at San Jacinto. He made a speech at Galveston, in 
which, with prophetic power, he warned the people of the disastrous conse- 
quences of secession. While he was speaking, one horse of a team standing 
near became restive, and attempted to kick out of the harness. Houston paused 
in his speech : " He is trying a little practical secession," he remarked, to the 
amusement of his audience. The horse finally choked himself down, and the 
teamster began beating him. " You see how it works," said Houston. After his 
beating, the horse was got upon his feet, and the teamster fastened the broken 
harness. " See in what a fix he is brought back into the Union !" said the ready 
orator, amid applause and laughter. 

But all would not do. The secession sentiment was too strong for even 
Houston to combat. A popular vote was taken, and the State voted out of the 
Union. The State officials were required to take an oath of allegiance to the 
Confederate government. This Houston peremptorily refused to do, and was 
accordingly deposed, being succeeded by the lieutenant-governor. He retired 
to his prairie home, saying, with pathetic dignity, "It is perhaps meet that my 
career should close thus. I have seen the statesmen and patriots of my youth 
gathered to their fathers, and the government which they had reared rent in 
twain, and none like them are now left to re-unite it again. I stand almost the 
last of a race who learned from them the lessons of human freedom." 

On the 26th of July, 1863, three weeks after the fall of Vicksburg, Houston 
died. " During the forenoon," writes his daughter, "we heard his voice in a 
tone of entreaty, and listening to the feeble sound, we caught the words, 
' Texas ! Texas ! ' Soon afterward, my mother was sitting by the bedside with 
his hand in hers, and his lips moved once again ; ' Margaret ! ' he said ; and the 
voice we loved was silent forever." 




1 111- l.Al 1 1.1. I I.N 1 llh 11. .MN;, 




i 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN, 

THE PRESERVER. OK THE UNION. 



BY PROF. W. W. BIRDSALL.* 




^ i 



our gallery of famous Americans there is one figure which 
stands peculiarly alone. Before the halo of martyrdom 
had made his memory sacred, even before his divine 
insight had perceived the time when he should set the 
bondman free, it was declared that there was for Abraham 
Lincoln "a niche in the temple of fame, a niche near 
Washington." But our feeling for Lincoln is very different 
from the veneration with which we regard the Father of 
his country. Washington was a stately figure, too digni- 
fied for near approach. He commanded respect, admira- 
tion, loyalty ; but our feeling for Lincoln includes all these, 
and with them a peculiar affection as for one very near and 
dear. It is not only that he is nearer to us in point of time ; his was a nature 
so large, an experience so comprehensive, that the minds and hearts of all our 
people find in his a chord to which their own responds ; and within the breast 
of every American there is something which claims Lincoln as his own. 

The fame of Lincoln is increasing as the inner history of the great struggle 
for the life of the nation becomes known. For almost two decades after that 
struggle had setded the permanence of our government, our vision was ob- 
scured by the near view of the pygmy giants who " strutted their brief hour 
upon the stage ;" our ears were filled with the loud claims of those who would 
magnify their own little part, and, knowing the facts concerning -some one frac- 
tion of the contest, assumed from that knowledge to proclaim the principles 
which should have governed the whole. Time is dissipating the mist, and we 
are coming better to know the great man who had no pride of opinion, who was 



* Prof. Birdsall, who is principal of one of the largest and best known private schools in Phila- 
delphia, has for years been a student of Lincoln's life. 

229 



230 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 



si^^Ult. 



willing to let Seward or Sumner or McClellan imagine that he himself was the 
guiding, dominating spirit of the government, if so that government might have 
the service of which each was capable ; we see more clearly the real greatness 
of the leader who was too slow for one great section of his people, and too fast 
for another, too conservative for those, too radical for these ; who refused to 
make the contest merely a war for the negro, yet who saw the end from the 
I beginning, and so led, not a section of his people, but the whole people, away 
from the Eg\'ptian plagues of slavery and disunion, united in sentiment and 
feeling and capable of united action, to the borders of the promised land. We 
are coming to appreciate that the "Father Abraham" who in that Red Sea 
passage of fraternal strife was ready to listen to every tale of sorrow, and who 
wanted it said that he " always plucked a thisde and planted a flower when he 

thought a flower would srrow," 
was not only in this sense the 
father of his people, but that he 
was a truly great statesman, 
who, within the limits of human 
knowledge and human strength, 
auided the affairs of state with 
a wisdom, a patience, a courage, 
which belittle all praise, and 
make him seem indeed a man 
divinely raised up, not only to 
set the captive free, but in order 
that "government of the people, 
by the people, and for the peo- 
ple, shall not perish from the 
earth." 

Abraham Lincoln came into 
the world in 1S09, in a miserable 
hovel in Kentucky. His family were of that peculiar people, the shiftless, im- 
provident, "poor whites" of the South. The father, Thomas Lincoln, was a 
typical specimen of his class, — lazy, trifling, spending his life in the search of some 
place in Kentucky, Indiana, or Illinois, where the rich soil would kindly yield its 
fruits without the painful price of labor. Some three generations back, he traced 
his ancestry to ^ Quaker origin in Pennsylvania ; but the thrift of that peaceful 
people was not entailed in the family, and if the energy and ability of the Vir- 
ginian grandfather who came with Boone into Kentucky was transmitted to the 
future President, certainly his father had it not. The mother's ancestry is un- 
known ; by courtesy she took her mother's name of Hanks. In youth she was 
both bright and handsome, and possessed of considerable intellectual force. 




L1.NC01,N S BOYHOOD HOME l.N KENTUCKY. 



BOYHOOD DAYS. 231 

She taught her husband to read, and it is fair to imagine that had her lot been 
less sordid, her life not ground down by labor and squalor and the vice about 
her, she would have been fitted to adorn a higher sphere of life. Her son, 
though she died when he was in his tenth year, and though another woman 
filled her place and deserved the love and devotion with which he repaid her 
goodness, cherished the memory of his "angel mother," testifying that to her 
he owed "all that he was or hoped to be." 

The story of Lincoln's boyhood belongs to a stage of civilization which our 
people have almost forgotten, or which they never knew. The removal to 
Spencer County, Indiana ; the "half-faced camp" in which the family lived ; the 
pride with which, a year later, they moved to a log cabin with dirt floor, and 
without doors or windows in the openings made for them ; the death of the 
mother ; the boy's first letter, begging a Kentucky preacher to come and preach 
a sermon over the grave in the wilderness ; the loneliness, suffering, and depri- 
vation that followed, complete a chapter whose pathos must touch all hearts. 
Relief came on the marriage of Thomas Lincoln to a thrifty Kentucky \yidow, 
whose advent necessitated a floor and doors and windows, who actually brought 
a stock of spare clothing and a clothes-press for its preservation, at which the 
boy, as he afterward said, " began to feel like a human being." This was typical 
frontier life. The hardship, the toil, the deprivation, killed the mothers ; myste- 
rious pestilence found, in the exposure and the filth, opportunity to sweep away 
whole families ; vice abounded ; ignorance and vulgarity were everywhere ; but, 
somehow, out of their midst came sometimes a strono^ character and a o-reat 
man. From this soil grew Lincoln. Schools were few, irregular, and poor, in 
the backwoods ; but the young Lincoln took advantage of every such opportu- 
nity, and we find him at seventeen walking over four miles for the purpose. 
Reading, writing, and elementary arithmetic, with some irregular exercises in 
composition and declaiming, formed the whole of the course of study, except that 
his last teacher, one Crawford, astonished the natives by undertaking to teach 
mannei's. He would require one pupil to go outside and enter the room as a 
lady or gentleman would enter a parlor. Another, acting the part of host, 
would receive the in-comer, and politely introduce him to the company. When, 
in after years, the President's arm was wearied by the vigorous greetings of 
the thousands who filed through the stately East Room of the White House, if 
he ever thought of those early mock receptions, the contrast must have afforded 
him rich amusement. 

At seventeen, Lincoln had grown to his full heiaht ; he weig-hed one hun- 
dred and sixty pounds, and was wiry, strong, and vigorous. He wore low shoes 
or moccasins. His trousers were of buckskin, and usually bagged unnecessarily 
in one region, while, by reason of their brevity, they left several inches of shin 
bone exposed. A linsey-woolsey shirt and coon-skin cap, the tail hanging 



232 ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 

down his back, completed this baci-cwoods outfit. It is doubtful whether he ever 
owned an arithmetic ; but leaves exist, taken from a book made and bound by 
him, in which he copied problems illustrating the various principles of arith- 
metic. One page is devoted to subtraction of Long Measure, Land Measure, 
and Dry Measure, the headings being written in a bold hand, and each subject 
illustrated by two or three problems. About the edges are some extra flour- 
ishes and ciphering, and at the bottom the touching lines : — 

"Abraham Lincoln 
his hand and peVi 
he will be good but 
god knows When." 

His penmanship came to be regular in form, and better than that of any 
of his mates ; the samples which we see of his handwriting as a man are far 
above the average. He kept a copy book, in which he entered everything that 
pleased his fancy. When paper failed, he wrote his selections with chalk or 
charcoal upon a plank or a shingle. He wrote the first drafts of compositions 
upon a smooth wooden shovel, which he planed off for each new effort. He 
devoured such books as he could borrow, and the Bible and ^Esop's Fables 
were for a long time the only ones he owned. Beside these, " Robinson Cru- 
soe," Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress," a History of the United States, and 
Weems' " Life of Washington," formed the bulk of his early reading. A copy of 
the Statutes of Indiana was borrowed from the constable, and studied with a care 
which possibly indicated his future career as a lawyer. His passion for reading 
was such as to cause remark amono- his neio^hbors, who wondered to see the 
great awkward boy, after a day of labor, crouch in a corner of the log cabin, or 
spread his ungainly body under a tree outside, and bury himself in a book, while 
he devoured the corn bread which formed his supper. He delighted in " speechi- 
fying," as he called it, and upon the slightest encouragement would mount a 
stump and practice upon his fellow-laborers. He helped to support the family 
by working in his father's clearing, or by hiring to neighbors to plow, dig ditches, 
chop wood, or split rails, and for a time was employed as clerk in the cross-roads 
store. A journey to New Orleans as deck-hand on a flat-boat, widened his 
experience of mankind, and gave him his first glimpse of slavery. 

Early in 1830, he went, with the family, a fifteen days' journey to Illinois, 
where, in Macon County, five miles from Decatur, a new settlement was made. 
On a bluff overlooking the Sangamon River another log cabin was built ; land 
was fenced with the historic rails, some of which, thirty years later, were to play 
a prominent part in the presidential campaign ; and Lincoln, being now of age, 
left his father's family in these new quarters, to earn his living for himself The 
tenderness of heart which characterized him through life was well illustrated by 
his turning back, while on the journey to Illinois, and wading an icy river to 



REMOVAL TO ILLINOIS. 



233 



rescue a worthless pet dog which had fallen behind, and could not get across, 
and which "Abe " could not bear to leave whimpering and whining on the oppo- 
S te shore. This same disposition had led him at all times to protest against the 
cruelty to animals practiced by his mates, and is only one of the traits which 
marked him as of a different mould. 

Another journey to New Orleans was his first employment after leaving 
home. Here he witnessed a slave auction. The scene impressed itself upon 
his heart and memory, and he is said to have declared to his cousin and com- 
panion, " If I ever get a chance to hit that institution, /'// hit it hardy 

For several years he lived at New Salem, Illinois, serving as steamboat 




HOME OF LINCOLN AT GENTRYVILLE, INDIANA. 



pilot, and as clerk in a store and mill. At the time of the " Black Hawk War," 
being out of employment, he volunteered for service, and was elected captain. 
Returning at the close of the expedition, he bought an interest in a store, for 
which he went in debt, and, presently selling it on credit and his debtor abscond- 
ing, he found himself burdened with claims which it took many years to dis- 
charge. 

He now began in earnest to study law, walking to Springfield to borrow 

books and return them ; and, as a means of livinor in the meantime, he entered 

the employ of the county surveyor and laboriously studied the principles of land 

measurement. Presently he began to practice law a little, representing friends 

14 



234 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 



before a justice of the peace, and, in 1834, he was elected to the Legislature, 
and served his county as a representative for four consecutive terms. Some 
elements of his popularity were his acknowledged honesty and fairness, his 
wonderful gift as a story-teller, his prowess as a wrestler, and, when actual 
necessity arose, as a fighter, and his reputation for knowledge. This latter had 
been acquired by his habit, of studying to the bottom whatever subject he had 
in hand, and, although his ran<re of information was not wide, when he under- 
took the discussion of any topic he soon demonstrated that he thoroughly 
understood it. 

His service in the Legislature was not remarkable. The country in which 




OPKMNi; (II- THK ILLINOIS AND MICHIGAN CANAL. 



he lived was just then wild upon the importance of public improvements, par- 
ticularly in the form of interior waterways, and it is not surprising that Lincoln 
should declare an ambition to become " the Ue Witt Clinton of Illinois ; " but 
the net result of the enterprise was a gigantic State debt. He was popular ir» 
the Legislature, and was twice the nominee of his party for Speaker, a nominal 
honor only, as the State was at that time Democratic. His most notable act 
during this time was his joining with a single colleague, in a written protest 
against the passage of pro-slavery resolutions. This protest appears on the 
records, and bases the opposition of the two signers upon their belief "that the 



A PECULIAR LAWYER 
. . . ' 23s 

in the meantime Lincoln had been admifteH to tT.« k 

knowledge of the law, for this was never ereat as hv h^t.K-iv . ^ ^'' 

and by reason of his sterling inte^ritv 5. ^A \^^'^''y ^^ ^" advocate, 

authorities supporting his side of the case b„t h.A f ^ , . ^"^ 

opposite, which he Jroceeded to o not Th ' ''"''"^ ^^^°'''"- '^^ 

attorney many case must h t Jn fe^ to winT '"'"""r f ^"^' ^" 
stirred, the power of his oratory, tnrthrinvindble W ^f v'"'' "'^" '^^^'^ 
him a most formidable advocate " Yes '' he w. 1 f i ^^S^""^^"t, made 
client, .- we can doubtless gain your la"; fo vou Z '' "V? ' ""'''-'^ 

hood at loaaerheads • we r.n /? J ^ ,' ''''" '^^ "^ ^^^'^ neighbor- 

UMJ '^«,t>erneaas , we can distress a widowed mother and h^r q,V r.^u i 

children, and thereby get for you six hundred dollars to which you eem tot'" 
a legal claim, but which rightfullv belona^ h .0.. " ^'^'^'^ y«" ^^eem to have 
woman and her children as it does o" T "" """' ^' '""^^ ^° ^^e 

things legally right arTn::-lta^;rX\v?s\aT:^^^^^^^^^^ 
wm give you a litde advice for whicl wS will Irfe'you n^ '" 

to be a sprightly, energetic man ; we would advise you to tr^ vo„ Jk . 
making six hundred dollars in some other way." ^ ^ ^ "' ^^"^ ^' 

HIS PECULIAR HONESTY. 

by h "Lt«t aTo^^st" He°hlf ""'?• ^l' "" '''' "^^ '^ "'— « 
and „,e„ .Hat officeCr^rn.ntd^tjnTl r^;;Xd^^ f™ ''^'"' 

very poo. ..^:^:-t^:: z:^ z^Tr^tii- ^"'^ -^ 

and copper coins" Iwhth ^^T^sTJ^,t"''T'f *= '''"""=^' ^''-' 
and ,0 the e.act amount required ^ ^'"■' ''''' P"'''^''^'' "^'^-P^. 



236 ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 

Early in life Lincoln became attached to an attractive and estimable girl, 
and they were to have been married when his law studies were completed. Her 
sudden death was such a shock to him, and threw him into such a condition of 
melancholy, that it was feared by his friends that his reason would be perma- 
nently dethroned. Some years later he married Miss Mary Todd, a young 
lady of Kentucky parentage and of good family. She was possessed of some 
culture and a vigorous and sprightly mind. Her temper, however, was erratic, 
and those who knew the family life intimately represent it as full of trials. 
Some of the incidents reported seem intensely amusing at this distance of time, 
but must have been painful in the extreme as actual occurrences. Such trials 
continued throughout Mr. Lincoln's life, and were the occasion of continual 
petty annoyance, and frequent embarrassment in the discharge of his public 
duties. 

He continued to " ride the circuit," being a great portion of the time absent 
from home in attendance at court, with the exception of his single term in Con- 
gress, until his election to the presidency. He was acquiring a very great influ- 
ence in his district and in the State, was one of the leading managers of the 
Whig party, and was usually a candidate for presidential elector. When in 
1846, according to the peculiar system of rotation adopted by the Illinois politi- 
cians, it was his turn to go to Congress, he did not distinguish himself though 
he seems to have made a favorable impression upon the party leaders, and the 
acquaintance thus formed was of great use to him later. 

Going back to Illinois, he again settled to the practice of law. It was in 
1853 that he received his largest fee. It was a case in which he defended the 
Illinois Central Railroad in a suit brought to collect taxes alleged to be due, and 
in which he was successful. He presented a bill for two thousand dollars, which 
the company refused to allow, when, after consultation with other lawyers, he 
brought suit for five thousand, which he received. 

It was not until the repeal of the Missouri Compromise, in 1854, that Lincoln 
was really aroused. He had always opposed the extension of slavery, holding 
opinions well indicated by his protest in the Legislature, already mentioned, and 
by the acute remark that it was " singular that the courts would hold that a man 
never lost his right to his property that had been stolen from him, but that he 
instantly lost his right to himself if he was stolen." The great question now 
absorbed his interest. He was constantly more bold in his position, and 
more powerful in his denunciation of the encroachments of the slave power. 
He became, therefore, the natural champion of his party in the campaigns in 
which .Senator Douglas undertook to defend before the people of his .State his 
advocacy of " Squatter Sovereignty," or the right of the people of each Terri- 
tory to decide whether it should be admitted as a slave or a free State, and of 
the Kansas-Nebraska bill, by which the " Missouri Compromise" was repealed. 



THE LINCOLN-DOUGLAS DEBATES. \ 237 

{Sec Henry Clay.) The first great battle between these two giants of debate 
took place at the State Fair at Springfield, in October of 1854. Douglas made, 
on Tuesday, a great speech to an unprecedented concourse of people, and was 
the lion of the hour. The next day Lincoln replied, and his effort was such as to 
surprise both his friends and his opponents. It was probably the first occasion 
on which he reached his full power. In the words of a friendly editor : " The 
Nebraska bill was shivered, and like a tree of the forest was torn and rent asunder 
by the hot bolts of truth. ... At the conclusion of this speech every man and 
child felt that it was unanswerable." 

It was arranged that Lincoln was to follow Douglas and reply to his speeches, 
and the two met in joint debate at Peoria, after which Douglas proposed that 
they should both abandon the debate, agreeing to cancel his appointments and 
make no more speeches during that campaign, if Lincoln would do the same. 
Lincoln somewhat weakly agreed to this proposition, and the next day, when 
Douglas pleaded hoarseness as an excuse, he gallantly refused to take advan- 
tage of "Judge Douglas's indisposition." He faithfully kept to the agreement, 
though Douglas allowed himself, on one occasion, to be tempted into violating it. 

THE DEBATES WITH DOUGLAS. 

But it was the campaign of 1858 which made Lincoln famous, which fully 
demonstrated his powers, and which prepared him for the presidency. Douglas 
was immensely popular. His advocacy of territorial expansion appealed to the 
patriotism of the young and ardent ; his doctrine of " Popular Sovereignty " 
was well calculated to mislead the shallow thinker ; and his power in debate had 
given him the name of " the Little Giant." True, the " Dred Scott decision " had 
made it difficult to hold his Northern constituency to the toleration of any atti- 
tude which could be construed as favoring the South,'-' but his opposition to the 
Lecompton pro-slavery constitution, on the ground that it had never been fairly 
voted upon by the people of Kansas, not only maintained the loyalty of his par- 

* The "Dred Scott decision" was delivered by Chief Justice Taney, of the United States 
Supreme Court, on March 6, 1857, immediately after the inauguration of President Buchanan. 
Dred Scott was a slave who had been taken by his master from Missouri to Illinois and Wisconsin, 
where slavery was illegal, and had lived there for some years. He was then taken back to Missouri, 
and having been whipped, he brought suit against his master for assault, pleading that he was made 
free by being taken into a free State, where slavery was illegal. The Missouri Circuit Court de- 
cided in his favor ; but the case was appealed to the United States Supreme Court, which decided 
that the Missouri Compromise, limiting the area of slavery, was unconstitutional, and that therefore 
slaveholders could enter any free State with slaves and hold them there as property ; that negroes, be- 
ing incapable of becoming citizens, had no standing in court, and could not maintain a suit for any 
purpose. As this decision overthrew all barriers against the extension of slavery, even to the free 
States, and declared that the negro had no rights which the courts would protect, it caused great 
excitement in the North, and aroused intense hostility to the aggressive demands of the slave power. 



238 ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 

tisans, but led Horace Greeley and some other leaders of the new Republican 
party to favor his re-election to the Senate, hoping to separate him from the pro- 
slavery interest, and thus introduce a split in the Democratic party. But Lin- 
coln and those who advised with him were firmly of opinion that the anti-slavery 
cause was safe only in the hands of those who had consistendy been its advo- 
cates, and took high and strong ground in favor of an aggressive campaign. 
Lincoln had come to be a really great political manager. He cared little for 
temporary success, if only he could foster the growth of a right public opinion, 
and thus make possible a future victory which would be permanent. So, in this 
campaign, when he proposed to press upon his opponent the question whether 
there were lawful means by which slavery could be e.xcluded from a Territory 
before its admission as a state, his friends suggested that Douglas would reply 
that slavery could not exist unless it was desired by the people, and unless pro- 
tected by territorial legislation, and that this answer would be sufficiently satis- 
factory to insure his re-election. But Lincoln replied, " I am after larger game. 
If DouLdas so answers, he can never be President, and the battle of i860 is 
worth a hundred of this." Both predictions were verified. The people of the 
South might have forgiven Douglas his opposition to the Lecompton Constitution, 
but they could not forgive the promulgation of a doctrine which, in spite of the 
Dred Scott decision, would keep slavery out of a Territory; and so, although 
Douglas was elected and Lincoln defeated, the Democracy was divided, and it 
was impossible for Douglas to command Southern votes for the Presidency. 

The campaign had been opened by a speech of Lincoln which startled the 
country by its boldness and its power. It was delivered at the Republican con- 
vention which nominated him for Senator, and had been previously submitted to 
his confidential advisers. They strenuously opposed the introduction of its 
opening sentences. He was warned that they would be fatal to his election, 
and, in the existing state of public feeling, might permanently destroy his politi- 
cal prospects. Lincoln could not be moved. "It is true" said he, "and 1 will 
deliver it as written. I would rather be defeated with the.se expressions in 
my speech held up and discussed before the people than be victorious without 
them." The paragraph gave to the country a statement of the problem as terse 
and vigorous and even more complete than Seward's "irrepressible conflict," 
and as startling as Sumner's proposition that " freedom was national, slaver)'' 
sectional." "A house divided against itself," said Lincoln, " cannot stand. I 
believe this government cannot endure permanently half slave and half free. I 
do not expect the Union to be dissolved ; I do not expect the house to fall ; but 
I expect it will cease to be divided. It will become all one thing or all the other. 
Either the opponents of slavery will arrest the farther spread of it, and place it 
where the public mind shall rest in the belief that it is in the course of ultimate 
extinction, or its advocates will push it forward till it shall become alike lawful 



HIS VIEW OF THE SLAVERY QUESTION. 239 

in all the States, — old as well as new, North as well as South." It seems small 
wonder that Douglas should interpret this as a threat of sectional strife, should 
magnify it and distort it, and that it should thus be the means of driving many- 
timid voters to the support of the more politic candidate. 

Never had the issues of a political campaign seemed more momentous ; 
never was one more ably contested. The triumph of the doctrine of "popular 
sovereignty," in the Kansas-Nebraska bill, had opened the Territories to slavery, 
while it professed to leave the question to be decided by the people. To the 
question whether the people of a Territory could exclude slavery Douglas had 
answered, "That is a question for the courts to decide," but the Dred Scott 
decision, practically holding that the Federal Constitution guaranteed the right 
to hold slaves in the Territories, seemed to make the pro-slavery cause tri- 
umphant. The course of Douglas regarding the Lecompton Constitution, 
however, had made it possible for his friends to describe him as "the true 
champion of freedom," while Lincoln continually exposed, with merciless force, 
the illogical position of his adversary, and his complete lack of political 
morality. 

Douglas claimed that the doctrine of popular sovereignty " originated when 
God made man and placed good and evil before him, allowing him to choose 
upon his own responsibility." But Lincoln declared with great solemnity: " No ; 
God did not place good and evil before man, telling him to make his choice. 
On the contrary, God did tell him there was one tree of the fruit of which he 
should not eat, upon pain of death." The question was to him one of right, 
a high question of morality, and only upon such a question could he ever be 
fully roused. " Slavery is wrong," was the keynote of his speeches. But he 
did not take the position of the abolitionists. He even admitted that the South 
was entitled, under the Constitution, to a national fugitive slave law, though 
his soul revolted at the law which was then in force. His position, as already 
cited, was that of the Republican party. He would limit the extension of 
slavery, and place it in such a position as would insure its ultimate extinction. It 
was a moderate course, viewed from this distance of time, but in the face of a 
dominant, arrogant, irascible pro-slavery sentiment it seemed radical in the 
extreme, calculated, indeed, to fulfill a threat he had made to the Governor of 
the State. He had been attempting to secure the release of a young negro 
from Springfield who was wrongfully detained in New Orleans, and who was in 
danger of being sold for prison expenses. Moved to the depths of his being 
by the refusal of the official to interfere, Lincoln exclaimed : " By God, Governor, 
I'll make the ground of this country too hot fm- the foot of a slave." 

Douglas was re-elected. Lincoln had hardly anticipated a different result, 
and he had nothing of the feeling of defeat. On the contrary, he felt that the 
corner-stone of victory had been laid. He had said of his opening speech : "If 




LINCOLN AND HIS SON " TAU." 



FAME IN A WIDER FIELD. 241 

I had to draw a pen across my record, and erase my whole life from sight, and 
I had one poor gift or choice left as to what I should save from the wreck, I 
should choose that speech, and leave it to the world unerased ;" and now, he 
wrote : "The fight must go on. The cause of liberty must not be surrendered 
at the end of one or even one hundred defeats. Douglas had the ingenuity to 
be supported in the late contest both as the best means to break down and to 
uphold the slave interest. No ingenuity can keep these antagonistic elements 
in harmony long. Another explosion will soon come." And the explosion was 
only two years in coming. Neither was he in doubt about the effect of his own 
labors. " I beHeve I have made some marks," said he, " which will tell for the 
cause of liberty long after I am gone." He had bidden his countrymen "Re- 
turn to the fountain whose waters spring close by the blood of the Revolution. 
Think nothing of me ; take no thought for the political fate of any man whom- 
soever, but come back to the truths that are in the Declaration of Indepen- 
dence;" and defeat, which he foresaw must be temporary, was as nothing to him. 
But his great contest had made him famous. It is often said that Lincoln 
in i860 was practically unknown outside of Illinois. But this cannot be main- 
tained. In Illinois his name was a household word. "Come to our place," 
wrote a political manager in 1852, "people place more confidence in you than 
in any other man. Men who do not read want the story told as only you can tell 
it. Others may make fine speeches, but it would not be, ' Lincoln said so in his 
speech.' " And now his name was on the lips of every earnest advocate of 
freedom the country over. At the East there was deep and widespread interest 
in him. The people who looked up to Seward and Sumner and Wendell 
Phillips as the exponents of the gospel of freedom rejoiced at hearing of this 
new prophet, albeit he came from the wilderness. 

HIS COOPER INSTITUTE SPEECH. 

So, when in i860 Lincoln appeared by invitation to deliver an address at 
the Cooper Institute in New York, Horace Greeley declared that " No man has 
been welcomed by such an audience of the intellect and mental culture of our 
city since the days of Clay and Webster." No audience was ever more sur- 
prised. The scholarly people who thronged the immense audience-room had not 
really believed that any genuine good could come out of the Nazareth of Illinois, 
and the awkward, uncouth appearance of the speaker did not reassure them. 
They expected to hear a ranting, shallow stump speech, which might be adapted 
to persuade the ignorant people of a prairie State, but the hearing of which 
would rather be an ordeal to their cultured ears. But the effort was dignified, 
calm, clear, luminous. If it was not the speech of a scholar, it was that of a 
man full of his great subject, and with a scholar's command of all that bore upon 
it. It is said that those who afterward performed the work of publishing the 



242 ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 

speech as a campaign document were three weeks in verifying the statements 
and finding the historical records referred to. 

He had taken the East by storm. He was invited to speak in many places 
in New England, and everywhere met with the most flattering reception, which 
surprised almost as much as it delighted him. It astonished him to hear that 
the Professor of Rhetoric of Yale College took notes of his speech and lectured 
upon them to his class, and followed him to Merlden the next evening to hear 
him again for the same purpose. An Intelligent hearer described as remarkable 
" the clearness of your statements, the unanswerable style of your reasoning, and 
especially your illustrations, which were romance and pathos, fun and logic, all 
welded together." Perhaps his style could not be better described. He him- 
self said that It used to anger him, when a child, to hear statements which he 
could not understand, and he was thus led to form the habit of turning over a 
thought until it was in language any boy could comprehend. 

Lincoln had In 1856 been somewhat talked of by his Illinois friends for 
Vice-President, and even for President ; but he had felt that other men, of wider 
reputation, would better lead the party. Now, however, he thought himself a 
proper candidate, and freely consulted with his friends in furtherance of his 
canvass. When the convention met In Chicago, the candidacy of Seward was 
so prominent, and his managers had such a reputation for political finesse, that 
it was with a surprise amounting to disgust that they saw themselves out-shouted 
and out-generaled by their Western competitors. Lincoln was nominated on 
the third ballot, amid such enthusiasm as had never been equaled. 

As had been predicted, the Democrats had not been able to hold together, 
the pro-slavery wing refusing to endorse the nomination of Douglas, and putting 
Breckinridge in the field. The campaign was conducted with great enthusiasm 
on the part of the Republicans, all the candidates for the nomination uniting in 
working for the success of Lincoln and Hamlin, and the result was a majority 
of fifty-seven in the electoral colleges. 

From this time, the life of Abraham Lincoln Is the History of the Rebellion. 
It cannot be adequately written here. Every day was crowded with events 
which seem unimportant only because overshadowed by others whose world-wide 
influence commands attention. Hardly was the election over when active steps 
were taken In the South looking toward disunion. By February, seven State 
Legislatures had passed ordinances of secession, and the Southern Confederacy 
was practically organized. Few upon either side expected war, but the air was 
full of trouble, and the future looked very dark. 

On the I ith of February, Lincoln took leave of his old friends and neigh- 
bors in a litde speech of most pathetic beauty, and journeyed to Washington by 
way of all the principal cities of the North. Everywhere he was received with 
acclamation, and at every stop he made speeches full of tact, and largely de 



I 



OUTBREAK OF THE WAR. 



243 



voted to an attempt to quiet the general apprehension and to demonstrate to 
the people of the South that they had no just cause of complaint. There was 
intense excitement throughout the country, and especially in Washington, where 
threats were freely made that Lincoln should never be inaugurated. The 
veteran General Scott, however, who was in command, was thoroughly loyal, and 
determined to prevent violence. He quietly organized a small but efficient force 
of well-armed men, in citizen's dress, who guarded the Capitol and streets until 
after the inauguration. Threatened violence in Baltimore caused a change of 
Lincoln's route from Harrisburg, 
by which he arrived in Washing- 
ton unexpectedly, and the re- 
maining time until March 4th 
was spent in preparing his Inau- 
gural. 

When Chief-Justice Taney 
had administered the oath of 
office, the new President deliv- 
ered the Inaugural, which, while 
it was largely addressed to the 
Southern people, must have been 
really intended to strengthen the 
hearts of the friends of the Union. 
It foreshadowed fully and faith- 
fully the course of his administra- 
tion, and left no slightest excuse 
for secession or rebellion. He 
pointed out in the kindest possi- 
ble manner the inevitable results 
of disunion, and, while sacrificingr 
no principle, and declaring his 
purpose to fulfill his oath and to 
preserve the Union, the tone of 

the address has been likened to that of a sorrowing father to his wayward 
children. 

THE GREAT CIVIL W.\R. 

His task was such as no man ever faced before. The great republic, the 
only great and promising experiment in self-government that the world had 
ever seen, seemed about to end, after all, in failure. It was to be determined 
whether the Constitution contained the germs of its own destruction, or whether 
the government established under its provisions possessed the necessary 
strength to hold itself tog-ether. 




GENERAL WINFIELD SCOTT. 



244 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 



Mr. Lincoln called to his cabinet the ablest men of his party, two of 
whom, Seward and Chase, had been his competitors for the nomination, and 
the new administration devoted itself to the work of saving the Union. Every 
means was tried to prevent the secession of the border States, and the Presi- 
dent delayed until Fort Sumter was fired upon before he began active measures 
for the suppression of the Rebellion and called for seventy-five thousand 
volunteers. 

The great question, from the start, was the treatment of the negro. The 
advanced anti-slavery men demanded decisive action, and could not understand 
that success depended absolutely upon the administration commanding the 
support of the whole people. And so Mr. Lincoln incurred the displeasure 
and lost the confidence of some of those who had been his heartiest supporters 
by keeping the negro in the background and making the preservation of the 




LIBBY I'RISON l.W RICHMOND. 



Union the great end for which he strove. "I am naturally anti-slavery," said 
he at a later time. " If slavery is not wrong, nothing is wrong. I cannot 
remember the time when I did not so think and feel. And yet I have never 
understood that the Presidency conferred upon me an unrestricted right to act 
upon that judgment and feeling. It was in the oath I took that I would, to the 
best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United 
States. . . . This oath even forbade me practically to indulge my private 
abstract judgment on the moral question of slavery." And, although he 
repeatedly declared that, if he could do so, he would preserve the Union zviih 
slavery, he continued, " I could not feel that, to the best of my ability, I had 
even tried to preserve the Constitution, if to save slavery or any minor matter. 
I should permit the wreck of government, country, and Constitution, all 
together," and so, when it became evident that the salvation of the Union 



HIS POLICY IN THE WAR. 



245 



demanded the destruction of that accursed system, the President was ready to 
strike tlie blow, and he found ahnost the whole people ready to support him. 

It is true that he could never count upon the absolute loyalty of all those 
who should have been his support. Radical men could not understand his pro- 
gressive conservatism. When he refused, early in the war, to allow a self-confi- 
dent general to emancipate negroes, the abolitionists were shocked and grieved. 
When he retained in command, month after month, a g-eneral whom he, far 
better than his critics, knew to be a failure, the smaller men accused him of 
lack of energy and with trifling. He could not silence them all with the lesson 
which he administered to the members of his cabinet when they protested 
against replacing McClellan in command of the forces in Washington after the 
failure of his campaign upon the James, and the crushing defeat of Pope. He 
showed them that he saw all that they did ; that he knew the weakness of that 
general even better than they ; nay, more, that in the light of all the facts the 
reinstatement was in the nature of a personal humiliation to himself But when 
he asked them to name the man who could better be relied upon to reorganize 
the army, when he offered freely to appoint the better man if they would 
name him, they had no nomination to make. He had showed them anew 
the difference between the irresponsible critic and the responsible head of 
affairs. 

But upon what Lincoln called "the plain people," the mass of his country- 
men, he could always depend, because he, more than any other political leader 
in our history, understood them. Sumner, matchless advocate of liberty as he 
was, distrusted the President, and was desirous of getting the power out of his 
hands into stronger and safer ones. But suddenly the great Massachusetts 
Senator awoke to the fact that he could not command the support of his own 
constituency, and found it necessary to issue an interview declaring himself not- 
an opponent, but a supporter of Lincoln. 

In the dark days of 1862, when the reverses of the Union arms casta gloom 
over the North, and European governments were seriously considering the pro- 
priety of recognizing the Confederacy, it seemed to Mr. Lincoln that his time 
had come, that the North was prepared to support a radical measure, and that 
emancipation would not only weaken the South at home, but would make it 
impossible for any European government to take the attitude toward slavery 
which would be involved in recognizing the Confederacy. Action was de- 
layed until a favorable moment, and after the battle of Antietam the Presi- 
dent called his cabinet together and announced that he was about to issue 
the Proclamation of Emancipation. It was a solemn moment. The President 
had made a vow — "I promised my God," were his words — that if the tide 
of invasion should be mercifully arrested, he would set the negro free. The 
final proclamation, issued three months later, fitly closes with an appeal 



246 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 



which indiqates the devout spirit in which the deed was done: "And upon 
this act, sincerely beHeved to be an act of justice, warranted by the Con- 
stitution upon miUtary necessity, I invoke the considerate judgment of mankind, 
and the gracious favor of Almighty God." 



HIS GREATNESS AS A STATESMAN. 



But the negro question, though a constant, underlying difficulty, was by no 
means the whole of Lincoln's problem. Questions of foreign policy, of the 




'■-■■•t-t-'. 



«.-^rV"«3'^5cSi;- 



:^^^Sfe»y-:^.atk: 



bird's-eye view of andersonville prison. 



conduct of the war, the ever present necessity of providing money, which 
flowed out of the treasury in a thousand streams under the stress of daily 
growing and expanding public expenditure, the jealousy of politicians and the 
bickerings of generals, all these, and a thousand wearing, perplexing details, 
filled his days and nights with labor and anxiety. And, through it all, the great 
man, bearing his burden from day to day, grew in the love of his people as they 
came to know him better. It is of the human side of Lincoln that we think 



HIS GREAT ABILITIES. 



247 



most, of his homely speech, his kindliness, of the way he persisted, all through 
the war, in seeing and conversing with the thousands of all classes who 
thronged the doors of the White House, of the tears that came to his eyes at 
each story of distress, of his readiness to pardon, his unwillingness to punish,— 




THE CAPTURE OF BOOTH. THE SLAYER OF T.INCOLN. 



but this is only part of Lincoln. His grasp of questions of State policy was 
superior to that of any of his advisers. The important dispatch to our minister 
to England in May, 1861, outlining the course to be pursued toward that 
power, has been published in its original draft, showing the work of the Secre- 



248 ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 

tary of State and the President's alterations. Of this publication the editor of 
the North Amei-icati Rcviczu says: " Many military men, who have had access 
to Mr. Lincoln's papers, have classed him as the best general of the war. This 
paper will go far toward establishing his reputation as its ablest diplomatist." 
It would be impossible for any intelligent person to study the paper thus 
published, the omissions, the alterations, the substitutions, without acknowledg- 
ing that they were the work of a master mind, and that the raw backwoodsman, 
not three months in office, was the peer of any statesman with whom he might 
find it necessary to cope. He was entirely willing to grant to his secretaries 
and to his generals the greatest liberty of action ; he was ready to listen to 
any one, and to accept advice even from hostile critics ; and this readiness made 
them think, sometimes, that he had little mind of his own, and brought upon 
him the charge of weakness ; but, as the facts have become more fully known, 
it has grown more and more evident that he was not only the " best general " 
and the "ablest diplomatist," but the greatest man among all the great men 
whom that era of trial brought to the rescue of our country. 

And when the end came, after four years of conflict, when the triumph 
seemed complete and the work of saving the Union appeared to be accomplished, 
it needed only the martyr's crown to add depth of pathos to our memory of 
Lincoln, and insure him that fame which had been prophesied for him, should he 
make himself the " emancipator, the liberator. That is a fame worth living for ; 
ay, more, that is a fame worth dying for, though that death led through the blood 
of Gethsemane and the agony of the accursed tree. That is a fame which has 
glory and honor and immortality, and eternal life." 

The story of the end need hardly be told. On the evening of April 14, 
1865, Abraham Lincoln was shot by a half-crazed sympathizer with the South, 
John Wilkes Booth. The President had gone, by special invitation, to witness 
a play at Ford's Theatre, and the assassin had no difficulty in gaining entrance 
to the bo.x, committing the dreadful deed, and leaping to the stage to make his 
escape. The story of his pursuit and death while resisting arrest is familiar to 
us all. Mr. Lincoln lingered till the morning, when the little group of friends 
and relatives, with members of the cabinet, stood with breaking hearts about the 
death-bed. 

Sorrow more deep and universal cannot be imagined than enveloped our 
land on that 15th of April. Throughout the country every household felt the 
loss as of one of themselves. The honored remains lay for a few days in state 
at Washington, and then began the funeral journey, taking in backward course 
almost the route which had been followed four years before, when the newly 
elected President came to assume his burdens and to lay down his life. Such a 
pilgrimage of sorrow had never been witnessed by our people. It was followed 
by the sympathy of the whole world until the loved remains were laid in the 



APPEARANCE AND CHARACTER. 249 

tomb at Springfield. Over the door of the State House, in the city of his home, 
where his old neighbors took their last farewell, were the lines : — 

" He left us borne up by our prayers ; 
He returns embalmed in our tears." 

"Cities and States," said the great Beecher, "are his pall-bearers, and the 
cannon speaks the hours with solemn progression. Dead, dead, dead, he yet 
speaketh. Is Washington dead ? Is Hampden dead ! Is any man, that ever 
was fit to live, dead ? Disenthralled of flesh, risen to the unobstructed sphere 
where passion never comes, he begins his illimitable work. His life is now 
grafted upon the infinite, and will be fruitful as no earthly life can be. Pass on, 
thou that hast overcome. Ye people, behold the martyr whose blood, as so 
many articulate words, pleads for fidelity, for law, for liberty." 

TRAITS OF HIS CHARACTER. 

Abraham Lincoln was in every way a remarkable man. Towering above 
his fellows, six feet four inches in height, his gaunt figure, somewhat stooping, 
would of itself attract attention. Possessed of o-iorantic strensfth, he was dififi- 
dent and modest in the extreme. The habits of youth, and a natural indifference 
to such things, made him through life careless of dress. When he came upon 
the stage at Cooper Institute, in i860, he probably was for the first time discon- 
certed by his clothing. He had donned a new suit, which seemed not to fit his 
great limbs, and showed the creases made by close packing in a valise. He 
imagined that his audience noticed the contrast between his dress and that of 
William CuUen Bryant and other gentlemen on the stage, and he was well into 
his address before he could forget it. The expression of his face was sad ; and 
as the war dragged its slow length along, that sadness deepened. His mind was 
always tinged with a settled melancholy, an inherited trait, and it is doubtful 
whether he was ever entirely free from the mental depression which on two 
occasions almost overwhelmed him. Notwithstanding this, he was the greatest 
inventor and gatherer of amusing stories known to our public life. He used 
these stories on every occasion, whether to amuse a chance listener, to enforce 
a point in a speech, or to divert the mind of an unwelcome questioner. Digni- 
fied statesmen and ambassadors were astounded when the President interrupted 
their stilted talk with a story of "a man out in Sangamon County." He 
opened that meeting of the Cabinet at which he announced his solemn purpose 
to issue the Emancipation Proclamation by reading aloud a chapter from 
Artemus Ward. But the joke was always for a purpose. He settled many a 
weighty question, which hours of argument could not have done so well, by the 
keen, incisive wit of one of these homely "yarns." His great Secretary of 
State, gravely discussing questions of state policy, felt the ground give way 



2-0 ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 

under his feet when the President was •' reminded " of a story of a negro 
preacher. He settled the question of a cliange of commanding generals by 
remarkincr that it was a " bad plan to swap horses in the middle of a stream ; " 
and continually he lightened his labors and relieved his care by the native wit 
which could fit to the question of the hour, great or small, a homely illustration 
which exactly covered the ground. 

His gift of expression was only equaled by the clearness and firmness of 
his grasp' upon the truths which he desired to convey ; and the beauty of his 
words, upon many occasions, is only matched by the goodness and purity of the 

soul from which they sprung. 
His Gettysburg speech will be 
remembered as long as the story 
of the batde for freedom shall be 
told ; and of his second Inaugu- 
ral it has been said : " This was 
like a sacred poem. No Ameri- 
can President had ever spoken 
words like these to the American 
people. America never had a 
President who found such words 
in the depth of his heart." These 
were its closing words, and with 
them we may fitly close this im- 
perfect sketch : — 

" Fondly do we hope, fer- 
vently do we pray, that this 
mighty scourge of war may 
speedily pass away. Yet if God 
wills that it continue until all the 
wealth piled by the bondman's 
two hundred and fifty years of 
unrequited toil shall be sunk, 
and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another 
drawn by the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must 
be said, 'The judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.' 
With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right, as God 
gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind 
up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for 
his widow anti his orphan ; to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and 
lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations." 




ANDREW JOHNSON. 



pwfwnrwHP 




>....->t^^»^: 



WII.I.IAM H. SEWARD. 



252 




'WILLIAM H. SEWARD, 

THE SXATESM;A.N and DIF-IvOIvIA-TIST. 

HEN we look back over the time of our gfreat Civil 
War and the decade which preceded it, those years 
seem prolific of great men. Great questions 
appealed to our citizens for discussion and settle- 
ment ; great emergencies arose, fraught with 
extremes! danger to our national life ; but with 
them arose men divinely endowed with minds 
and hearts equal to the great demands. Of these 
" men who saved the nation," none filled at the 
time a larger place in the public mind, and per- 
haps none save Lincoln have more fully deserved 
their fame, than William H. Seward. 

There is a sort of fascination about the story 
of the boy who begins life by running away from his parents' control. 
When Seward was seventeen years old he found himself at variance with his 
father about tailors' bills and other vital matters, and leaving Union College, at 
Schenectady, without the knowledge of his parents, journeyed to Georgia, 
where he engaged to take charge of a certain Union Academy, at the salary of 
eight hundred dollars per year. The future statesman was so affected, however, 
by a letter from his father, depicting the distress of his mother, that he trans- 
ferred the engagement to a friend and returned to college. 

William H. Seward was the fourth of a family of six children, and, being 
born in 1801, at a time when slavery was in process of gradual abolition in New 
York, his life covered, almost exactly, the period of our country's struggle with 
that question. In that struggle he was himself to take a leading part His 
father, Samuel S. Seward, was a man of some culture, who added to the practice 
of medicine the varied occupations of farmer, merchant, magistrate, and 
politician. His mother was in every way a worthy help-meet to her energetic 
husband, while possessing that softer nature which engaged the affection of her 
children, as that of their sterner father failed to do. 

Graduating from college, young Seward determined to enter the law, and 

253 



254 



WILLIAM H. SEWARD. 



pursued the study, which he had already begun, in a law office in Goshen, and 
in the city of New York, and again in Goshen. He was admitted to practice 
in 1822, and immediately formed a partnership for the practice of his profession in 
the town of Auburn, which continued to be his home. His choice of a location 
had been influenced by the fact that it was the home of a certain Miss Frances 
A. Miller, who, when the law had sufficiently smiled upon her young devotee, 
became Mrs. Seward. 

The young lawyer readily made a place for himself not only in his profes- 
sion, but in the social life of the community, and in the local politics. He had 




^^i>^\^> .^jil^:,^„^^^f^y ^ '• ^, ^ 



OLD NEW YORK MANSION NEAR SEWARD S HOME. 



been brought up in the political school of Jefferson, but found his opinions so 
altered by his own study of principles, of men, and of events, that he never cast 
a vote for the candidates of that party, identifying himself at once with the 
"National Republicans," and later with the "Anti-Masons," the "Whigs," and 
so, by natural process, becoming a leading Republican. The reception to 
Lafayette, in 1825, was a notable event in Auburn, and in this, as in all transac- 
tions of local importance, Seward took a prominent part. His influence in local 
politics caused him to be one of a caucus held in 1830, in Albany, to consider 
measures for widening the field of the influence of the Anti-Masonic party, 



POLITICS IN NEW YORK. 255 • 

and his tact and ability so impressed his coadjutors as to make him one of the 
leaders of the party. Here, for the first time, he was brought into that close 
association with Thurlow Weed which became really a political partnership, 
and which, for a generation, was to dominate the politics of the State, and to be 
counted as one of the greatest forces in the nation at large. 

Under the influence of this coalition, he was, in 1S30, elected as the candi- 
date of the Anti-Masonic party, a member of the State Senate, in which position 
he acquitted himself with honor, though the collapse of his party prevented a 
re-election. The organization of the Whig party, however, gave the political 
firm of Weed & Seward abundant opportunity for the exercise of their talents, 
and to Seward it brought the nomination for Governor. This so surprised his 
neighbors in Auburn that some of them of his own party declared that "the 
State must be in a strange condition if Seward is among its greatest men," — a 
surprise which may have been quieted by the remark of one of the delegates 
to the convention : " Gentlemen, I have learned one thing by going to Utica, 
and that is, that a great man never lives at home." His failure of election 
brought no real discouragement to Mr. Seward, as the campaign had organized 
and solidified the new party, and he now devoted himself to building up his law 
practice, and could write to Weed, declining to be used in the building of any 
more "political cob-houses." 

IMPRESSIONS OF SLAVERY. 

In 1835 he drove with Mrs. Seward to the Natural Bridge in Virginia, and 
we find reflected in his letters the painful impressions of slavery, which confirmed 
his previous sentiments, and helped to make him the wise, consistent opponent 
of its extension which he afterward became. A single scene will illustrate 
this : A cloud of dust comes slowly up the road, from which proceeds a confusion 
of moaning, weeping, and shouting. Presently it is seen to be caused by ten 
little naked boys, from six to twelve years old, tied together, two and two, by 
their wrists, and fastened to a rope, while a tall white man drives the procession 
by aid of a long whip, watering its hungry members at the horse-trough, and 
then leaving them to sob themselves to sleep in a shed. These children had 
been purchased at different plantations, and were being driven to Richmond, to 
be sold at auction and taken South. 

Mr. Seward spent the greater part of the years i836,and 1837 at Westfield, 
Chautauqua Co., N. Y., in adjusting the difficulties between the Holland Land 
Company and the settlers in that part of the State, a service in which he was 
eminently successful and which resulted greatly to his financial benefit. The 
Whig victory of 1836 brought a revival of Seward's political aspirations, and in 
1838 he was elected Governor. The most notable features of his administration 
were his refusal to deliver to the Virginia authorities three sailors who were 
charged with secreting an escaping slave, a subsequent dispute with Georgia 



256 WILLIAM H. SEWARD. 

over a similar matter, the abolishing of imprisonment for debt in New York, 
and the fostering of general education, internal improvements, and foreign 
immiofration. 

A pleasant anecdote of Governor Seward is to the effect that one Sunday 
in New York he started out to find an Episcopal church. He entered one near 
Broadway, to which he had frequently been invited, but no one offered him a 
seat. Followed by the members of his staff, he traversed the entire length of 
the church, when, finding a door in the rear wall, he passed quietly out into the 
churchyard. Some of the church officers followed the party out, with assur- 
ances that no offense had been intended, that had the members known who it 
was seats would have been plenty, and invited their return. The reply was to 
the effect that Mr. Seward had no desire to visit a church which had a seat for 
a Pfovernor, but none for a stranger. 

Governor Seward also demonstrated, in a way which will appeal ver^'- 
strongly to the sympathies of this generation, his willingness to depart from 
time-honored precedent when he was convinced that the precedent was not 
founded in right principle. In his preparation for the New Year s celebration 
of 1842 he substituted cold water and lemonade for the punch and wine which 
had previously been provided ; and this he did not in accordance with his own 
tastes so much as because he believed that the growing temperance sentiment 
was entitled to recognition, and that those in authority should set a proper 
example in such matters. 

At the close of the year 1842 the Governor retired to private life, having 
declined to be a candidate for a third term. One feature of his administration 
is still worthy of notice : he was exceptionally firm in the refusal of pardons to 
convicted criminals. Listening patiently to every applicant, weighing carefully 
all the evidence, and devoting days and nights of anxious labor to the study of 
important cases, he absolutely refused to yield to the pressure of influence, or 
even to popular opinion, and where no errors were manifest and he could not 
be convinced that humanity would be the gainer by interfering, he insisted that 
the course of justice must not be interrupted, and that the judgment of the 
courts must be fulfilled. In cases, however, where he felt that mercy could be 
safely extended, it was done, without regard to. the previous social standing of 
the beneficiary or the political influence of his friends. 

He now devoted himself again to the law, his wide reputation bringing to 
him important cases in all the higher courts. Entering with much hesitation 
and distrust of his powers upon cases under the patent laws, he was surprised 
to find himself unusually successful, and this branch of his practice became not 
only important but lucrative. 

The Whig party was torn by dissensions. The war of opinion among its 
members, together with the conflict of opposing ambition among its leaders, 



UNITED STATES SENATOR. 



257 



prevented any permanent success, but a season of defeat, with a term out of 
office, brought its members again to see the necessity of harmony, and the 
impossibility of success while its prominent men were willing to sacrifice not 
only the hopes of their fellow-partisans, but the principles of their party, for their 
own personal and temporary triumph. So the Whigs elected Harrison in 1840, 
were defeated with Clay in 1844, victorious with Taylor in 1848, and were ready 
to disappear with Scott m 1852, leaving all that was vital in their organization 
or principles to rally to the support of the new party which nominated Fremont 
in 1856 and elected Lincoln in i860. 




SEAL CATCHING IN ALASKA. 



ELECTION TO THE UNITED STATES SENATE. 

The success of the Whigs in 1848 made possible the election of Mr. Seward 
to the Senate, which body he entered two years before Sumner, with whom, and 
Chase and Hale he was to oppose the forces of slavery. 

Senator Seward is described as a slender, hook-nosed, gray-eyed, homely 
man, having red hair, a voice harsh and unpleasant, and a manner decidedly 
awkward, but his speeches were graceful and smooth as well as strong, their 
style was pure and clear, and it was early noticed that when the Senator from 
New York arose to speak, the Senate was ready to listen. His speeches are 
said to have done more than any other one thing to outline a declaration of faith 
upon which the various groups of anti-slavery men the country over could agree. 



258 U7LLIAM H. SEWARD. 

If this be true, it has been too much overlooked in recounting Mr. Seward's 
claims to greatness. His services as Lincoln's Secretary of State and his suc- 
cess in steerino- the country through the stormy times when a mistake would 
have brought on foreign war, or a wrongly phrased dispatch precipitated a 
recognition of the Southern Confederacy, have overshadowed what certainly 
was no less great, the bringing together into a single party, disciplined and 
united, the widely-differing factions, largely composed of hot-headed fanatics, 
which in 1850 could hardly be said to be united in anything, so far asunder were 
they, even in their opposition to slavery. Seward used quotations with great 
felicity, for his memory was exact and capacious, and his reading had been 
wide. He never descended to coarse jokes or mere buffoonery, but his 
speeches as well as his autobiography abound in a keen, dry, delightful humor, 
which added much to their force, and which makes them still agreeable reading. 

His invitation to the Southern Senators to come and argue their case openly 
before the people of the North, and the contrast which he made evident between 
the freedom with which they might do so, and the rancor and persecution which 
followed even the mildest expression of anti-slavery sentiments at the South, 
demonstrated Sumner's proposition that "freedom was national and slavery sec- 
tional; " and the way in which the New York .Senator laid bare the vicious nature 
of a cause which thus stifled free speech and hunted an opponent to death could 
not be more effective. Two phrases of his used in the debates of this period 
have become historic, his declaration that there was " a higJicr lazu than the Con- 
stitution which regulated the authority of Congress over the national domain, — 
the law of God and the interests of humanity," and his reference to the "irre- 
pressible conflict" which could only end in the country becoming all free or en- 
tirely a slaveholding nation. 

In all the heated political warfare between 1850 and i860, Mr. Seward bore 
a prominent part, and so evidently was he the leader of the Republican forces 
that it was thought that he must necessarily be the party candidate for the 
presidency. When the convention assembled at Chicago this seemed to 
the party managers a foregone conclusion, but a variety of causes, personal 
hostility, local prejudices, and that peculiar qualification, "availability," gave the 
nomination to Lincoln. 

Mr. Seward must have been profoundly disappointed, but he made no sign. 
He cheerfully set to work to promote the success of his party, and made, in the 
campaign which follovt'ed, a series of speeches, which, together with those 
delivered four years before, form a complete presentation of the anti-slavery 
case. The South was crying out that the election of Lincoln meant the destruc- 
tion of the rights and property of that section ; but Seward's speeches proved, 
if proof were necessary, that this was merely an excuse, put forward by those 
in favor of secession. 



GREATNESS AS A DIPLOMATIST. 259 

Between Lincoln's election and inauguration, Seward was largely instru- 
mental in checking treason in Buchanan's cabinet, and in securing the country 
against its dangers. He considered the battle against slavery won by Lincoln's 
election, and felt convinced that the Republican policy of forbidding its exten- 
sion would end in its final death ; and in that belief he was willing to wait, to 
turn his back, for a time, to the all-absorbing question, and to devote all his 
present energies to conciliation, and to the work of saving the Union. 

Lincoln's secretary of state. 

Mr. Seward had early formed a resolution never to accept an office by 
appointment unless it should seem to him that such a course was absolutely 
demanded by the welfare of the country. It is easy to believe that it was this 
reason which induced him to become Lincoln's Secretary of State. He proba- 
bly came to the office with something of contempt for the awkward, uncultured 
President, and with the idea that he was to be the real force of the administra- 
tion, — a sort of "power behind the throne," in whose hands the inexperienced, 
would-be statesman from the West would be easily controlled and prevented 
from doing harm. He early found himself mistaken, however, and gladly took 
the real position to which he had been chosen, that of a faithful counsellor to 
the great President. Wisely allowed a large liberty in the conduct of his 
department, the secretary brought to his gigantic task resources as unexpected 
as was the demand for them. It may be too much to say, as has been said, that 
during the four years of strife "his brain was pitted against all Europe, and 
always won," but the questions with which he had to deal had no precedent in 
their magnitude or their urgency, and frequently none as to the circumstances 
with which they dealt. 

Three instances may be mentioned : the Trent affair, the demand for com- 
pensation on account of damages by privateers fitted out in England, and the 
French occupation of Mexico. The weeks succeeding the seizure of the Con- 
federate commissioners who had embarked from the West Indies for England 
upon an English passenger steamer, the Trent, have been referred to as the 
darkest period of the war. The country was aflame with patriotic exultation at 
the intrepidity of Captain Wilkes, and to refuse to surrender the captives at the 
demand of England seemed certain to involve the distracted country in a war 
with Great Britain. The clear-headed wisdom of Lincoln, the acuteness of 
Seward, and the wide knowledge and great influence of Sumner, all were 
needed to wring victory from the jaws of this apparently certain defeat. The 
country submitted unwillingly at first, but gradually came to recognize the 
strength and wisdom of a policy which acknowledged the error that had been 
made, and in acknowledging it shrewdly called the attention of the British 
ministry to the fact that it was out of just such violations of international law 



26o WILLIAM H. SEWARD. 

that the War of 1812 arose, and that England had never acknowledged herself 
in the wrong. Our government could not afford to commit, in 186 1, the crimes 

against which it had 
protested a half cen- 
tury before, and Eng- 
land was left in the 
attitude of threaten- 
ing a war to resent 
the acts of which she 
had herself been 
guilty. 

Mr. Seward lived 
in Washington in the 
house occupied in 
later years by Secre- 
tary Blaine, and in 
which the latter died. 
He surrounded him- 
self with the degree 
of luxury which his 
moderate wealth jus- 
tified, and filled the 
place in society which 
belonged to his posi- 
tion in the govern- 
ment and to his com- 
manding abilities and 
great intellectual re- 
sources. When Lin- 
coln was assassin- 
ated, the plot included 
the murder of the 
Secretary of State. 
Mr. Seward was ill 
and confined to his 
bed, and the assassin 
IDOLS TOTiiM, OF ALASKA. seems to have had 

no difficulty in gain- 
ing access to his chamber. He was stabbed in several places, particularly 
in the face, but the bravery of his male nurse prevented his being killed. For 
days it was questionable whether he would recover, and his face was so injured 




THE FREEMAN CASE. 261 

that it was difficult to feed him. It was thought best to keep him in ignorance 
of the fate of Lincoln, but when, with his first returning strength, he saw through 
his window the White House flag at half-mast, he instantly divined the truth, 
and, with tears coursing down his scarred cheeks, exclaimed, " The President is 
dead ! " 

THE PURCHASE OF ALASKA. 

Mr. Seward continued to occupy the office of Secretary of State during the 
presidency of Andrew Johnson, rather leaning to the side of the President in his 
heated controversy with Congress. The most notable event of this time, aside 
from the reconstruction of the Southern States, was the purchase from Russia 
of the territory of Alaska. Secretary Seward was quick to see the value to us 
of this vast and still little-known territory, and it was almost altogether through 
his efforts that it became a part of the United States. 

The great leader had now completed his public service. He spent a year 
in a journey around the world, being everywhere received with the honor due 
to his eminence as a man and a statesman. Returning to Auburn, he beean to 
write his autobiography, which he had completed as far as the year 1 834, when 
his death occurred in October, 1872. 

Opinion will always differ as to the comparative standing and services of 
great men, but it can never deny to William H. Seward a place among the fore- 
most. He possessed in a high degree that peculiar faculty of grasping the 
thought of the average man, which enabled him to organize men into parties 
and to lead the parties so formed. He was great as a diplomatist, as a states- 
man, a politician, a lawyer, but he possessed some qualities which constrain us 
to tender to him our greatest admiration as a man in his relations to his fellows. 
His love of right, his hatred of injustice in any form, made him the willing 
servant of the poor and helpless, and his legal learning and skill as an advocate 
were heartily given in behalf of the suffering poor, from whom he could hope for 
no reward, and could not be bought at any price for the furtherance of oppres- 
sion or wrong. 

In 1846 Mr. Seward had interested himself to secure a fair trial for a negro 
convict who had murdered a fellow-prisoner. While the case was pending, a 
whole family was murdered near Auburn, and the murderer, another negro, 
narrowly escaped lynching. Mr. Seward's course in defending the first guilty 
man became at once very unpopular, and excitement rose to the highest pitch 
when, in the absence of any other counsel, he volunteered to serve the second. 
The accounts of the trial would seem to demonstrate that the man was not 
responsible for his deeds ; but the mob spirit was aroused, and the demand for 
his conviction and execution was so universal as to make the part of his volun- 
teer attorney not only unpleasant In the extreme, but positively dangerous. 
Mr. Seward felt that he was, in all probability, sacrificing his popularity and 



262 



WILLIAM H. SEWARD. 



his influence by the course he was taking, and these were, justly, very dear 

to him, but he did not hesitate. 

It is related that Mr. Gladstone, speaking to Charles Sumner of 

this trial, said that " Mr. Sew- 
ard's argument in the Free- 
man case is the greatest forensic 
effort in the English laneuaee." 
"The greatest?" exclaimed an- 
other gentleman ; " Mr. Glad- 




WILLIA.M hWAUl (-.LADSTONK. 



Stone, you 



forget 



Erskine." 
"No," was the reply, "I do not 
forget Erskine ; Mr. Seward's 
argument is the greatest forensic 
effort in the language." In the 
preliminary trial he had referred 
to the feeling against him, saying 
that it might very possibly con- 
tinue throughout his life and 
make his grave " unhonored, 
neglected, spurned," but expres- 
sing a hope that even then 
some one might be found who 
would erect over his remains an 
humble stone, and thereon this 
epitaph, ''He ivas faithful!' The 
wave of madness quickly passed, 
and Governor Seward found that 
he had been only at the beginning of his fame, his popularity, and his useful- 
ness, but the simple epitaph for which he that day expressed a desire is fitly 
inscribed upon his monument in the cemetery at Auburn. 




264 



CHARLES SUMNER, 

THE QREAT ADVOCATE OK FREEDOM:. 




AY, in lofty madness, that you own the sun, the stars, 
the moon ; but do not say that you own a man, en- 
dowed with soul to live immortal, when sun and moon 
and stars have passed away." 

Such words are now only remarkable for their 
beauty ; the truth they convey has come to be axiom- 
atic ; slavery has ceased to be a debatable question ; 
_ ^ but when they were uttered they were almost treason, 

/ *,w ■ . _^'' and were sufficient to bring down upon the speaker the 
* ■ " .,..;•* concentrated hatred of a whole section of our country, and 
the expression of such sentiments cut him off from sympathy 
with those who regarded themselves as the best people of his 
native city, and closed to him social circles of which he had been a proud and 
honored member. 

We Americans hold in especial honor those of our great men who, like 
Lincoln, Grant, Garfield, and a host of others, have attained their eminence with- 
out the assistance of inherited wealth or culture, and by their own unaided exer- 
tions. We almost come to think that in our country such " self-made men " 
possess a monopoly of greatness. To this idea there are many contradictions, 
but none more complete or more striking than is to be found in the life and 
works of Charles Sumner. His ancestors, indeed, were farmers, and his mother 
was a tailoress ; but the Sumners had for generations taken a more or less promi- 
nent part in public affairs, holding a high place in the esteem of the community. 
They shared the New England respect for culture, father and son for at least 
three generations pursuing their studies at Harvard ; and this typical represen- 
tative of Massachusetts grew to manhood, and took his place among the famous 
men of his time, without that pinch of poverty which we are rather prone to 
•think a necessary spur. 

He was the eldest of nine children, received his preliminary education at 
the famous Boston Latin School, and entered Harvard at the age of fifteen, and 
i6 265 



266 CHARLES SUMNER. 

his mother could well boast that " Charles, when a boy, was a good scholar and 
always diligent in his studies." 

At college, his habits were quiet, and his time almost entirely devoted to 
study, though the range of his interest was so wide as to interfere to some extent 
with the recjuired work, and he never took very high rank in his class. He had 
few intimate friends, though he enjoyed social life ; and it is typical of the man 
that in college discussions and literary work he always took the serious, the 
earnest point of view. The boy was father to the man ; and impurity of speech 
or conduct was impossible to him then as always. 

After leaving college he spent a year in further reading and study, slowly 
making up his mind to enter the profession of law. In his professional studies 
Sumner distinguished himself by the thoroughness of his reading and the 
accuracy and wide range of the knowledge thus acquired, though his devotion 
was rather to the principles and philosophy of the law than to the knowledge 
necessary for its practice. His association with the famous Judge Story at this 
period did much to develop this tendency, and he planned for himself a career 
much like that of his beloved friend and instructor, which, as is so frequently 
true of youthful programs, the force of circumstances compelled him to abandon 
for a course which led, by other paths, to honors even higher than those he 
coveted. 

He began the practice of law in Boston, and devoted himself earnestly to 
it. Many of its phases were not congenial to him, but he accepted any honor- 
able work in the line of his profession, drawing up papers, taking testimony as 
commissioner, assisting as junior counsel in some important cases, and, as he 
once laughingly told a friend, even found it within the line of his professional 
duty to write a love letter for an illiterate client, — a letter so tenderly expressed 
as to draw tears from the eyes of the lovelorn swain, though we are not informed 
of its effect upon the fair object of his affections. 

He early began to draw around him a circle of closely-attached friends, — 
those who already filled places of large usefulness, and many of whose names 
have since become household words. He was intimately associated with 
Judge Story and Professor Greenleaf, reporting the judicial decisions of the . 
former, assisting both in the preparation of their books, and taking their places 
in the conduct of the Harvard Law School. He was one of the editors of the 
Jurist, to which he contributed many articles on legal topics of importance, 
and articles by him were occasionally found in the pages of the North Ameri- 
can Rcvieiu and other leading periodicals. He greatly enjoyed social inter- 
course, and for many years "The Five of Clubs," an informal organization 
composed of Sumner, his partner, Hillard, Longfellow, Felton, afterward 
president of Harvard, and Henry R. Cleveland, used to meet almost weekly 
for discussion and the enjoyment of their close and unusual fellowship. He 



HIS VISIT TO EUROPE. 267 

counted among his friends Francis Lieber, Chancellor Kent, Chief Justice 
Marshall, Choate, Clay, Calhoun, Webster; every one acknowledged his learning, 
his ability, every one prophesied great things of him and for him ; but his law 
practice was not large and the occasion seemed lacking which should arouse 
his enthusiasm and call forth his energies. 

DISTINGUISHED RECEPTION IN EUROPE. 

He had long desired to visit Europe, and in December, 1837, he sailed for 
Havre. He spent three years in France, Germany, Italy, and Great Britain, 
borrowing the five thousand dollars which he expended in this time. In France, 
Italy, and Germany he applied himself with enthusiasm, first, to the study of the 
language and literature, and then of society, and especially of the law and its 
administration. In England he was accorded a reception the like of which no 
other American, previously unknown abroad, has probably enjoyed. Letters 
from judge Story and other distinguished Americans opened the way, and his 
great and extensive learning, personal dignity, and high character, with his 
intense interest in all the phases of English life, and particularly in the adminis- 
tration of English law, attracted first the notice, and then the friendship of the 
most eminent men, who vied with each other in showing him attention and in 
opening to him oppprtunities for seeing and knowing everybody and everything 
worth seeing and knowing. The ten months that he spent in England were 
filled with calls and visits, receptions, breakfasts, dinners, and balls. He visited 
at their country seats Brougham, Sydney Smith, Jeffrey ; saw Wordsworth and 
Carlyle at their own residences ; constantly met Macaulay, Hallam, Harriet 
Martineau, Lockhart, " Barry Cornwall ; " spent a day at Windsor Castle, the 
guest of the household, and partook of the Lord Mayor's banquet at Guildhall, 
owing his invitation to Lord Denman, and being conveyed thither by Sir 
Frederick Pollock in his carriage. He writes, December 5, 1838: "To-night 
my invitations were to dinner at Brougham's, Sir Robert Inglis's, Mr. Justice 
Littledale's, and Mr. Kenyon's ; at the latter place to meet Rogers and Southey. 
I dined with Brougham, as his invitation came first. To-morrow I dine with the 
Political Economy Club, where I shall meet Senior, John Mill, McCulloch, 
Spring Rice, Lord Lansdowne, etc. On the next day I commence my pilgrim- 
age to Oxford, where I pass four days, and those four days are engaged : first, 
to Sir Charles Vaughan, at All Souls ; second, to my friend Ingham, M. P., at 
Oriel ; third, to Dr. Hampden, at Christ Church ; fourth, to Wortley, at Merton. 
I then go to Cambridge, where my first day is engaged to Whewell, etc." He 
heard the Queen's speech at the opening of Parliament, having " perhaps the 
best place occupied by a person not in court dress," and standing immediately 
in front of Prince Louis Bonaparte ; and in the evening, in the House of Lords, 
where Lord Holland had placed him on the steps of the throne, he listened 



268 CHARLES SUMNER. 

while the Lord Chancellor read the speech to the House, and for two hours and 
a half to Brougham's masterly and eloquent speech, "the brimful house inter- 
rupting him with vociferous applause, and old Wellington nodding his head and 
adding his cheer." 

He wrote to Judge Story sketches based upon personal acquaintance of all 
the leading barristers in England, and of the judges of the different courts, 
having known them intimately not only in London, but upon the different 
circuits. He was frequently invited to sit with the judges, usually preferring to 
be in the front row of barristers ; and one reason for this remarkable courtesy 
may be traced in the wonderful knowledge he displayed of English' as well as 
American jurisprudence. This may be illustrated by an incident : On one occa- 
sion, in Westminster Hall, during the progress of a trial, a point arose for 
which no precedent occurred to the Lord Chief Justice, who asked Sumner 
whether it was covered by any American decisions. " No, your lordship," he 
replied, "but this point has been decided in your lordship's own court," men- 
tioning the case. 

Sumner returned to America in 1840, not yet thirty years of age, but 
possessed of an acquaintance with leading men in England, France, Germany, 
and Italy, with an intimate knowledge of the social life and political condition of 
those countries, which has probably never been acquired by any other American 
in the same length of time or at his time of life, and which was no small part of 
his preparation for the work he was to do. During the ne.xt five years he 
devoted himself to the law, without succeeding in building up an extensive 
practice, but taking a leading part in every public movement in behalf of educa- 
tion, prison reform, etc., occasionally* writing for the North A^nerican Reviezv 
and frequently for professional journals, and becoming more and more deeply 
interested in the great warfare against slavery. 

OR.VTIONS AGAINST WAR AND SLAVERY. 

Early in 1845 ^^ '^'^^ invited to deliver the annual Fourth of July oration 
in Boston. This was the first occasion on which he spoke to a large popular 
audience, and he prepared for it his address upon "The True Grandeur of 
Nations." It marked him at once as a public man, and is more widely known 
than any of his other writings. Its denunciation of the war spirit was exceed- 
ingly offensive to a large portion of his audience, and to most men in official 
life ; but its publication brought him a shower of admiring and congratulatory 
letters from many parts of the country and from England. Although all 
cannot agree entirely with its conclusions, many thousands of copies have been 
sold, and it still holds its place as an American classic. 

During the following five years he became more deeply absorbed in the 
slavery question, and in 1850 addressed the meeting in Faneuil Hall, called to 



ELECTION TO THE SENATE. 



269 



protest against the Fugitive Slave Law, introducing in his speech an alkision to 
a painting, by a famous Venetian artist, of " Saint Mark descending from the 
skies In headlong fury " and breaking " the manacles of a slave in the very pres- 
ence of the judge who decreed his fate." " Should Massachusetts," exclaimed the 
orator, "hereafter in an evil hour be desecrated by any such decree, may the 
good Evangelist once more descend with valiant arm to break the manacles of 
the slave." A copy of the painting used afterward to hang in Mr. Sumner's 
dining-room, and he was accustomed to say, "That picture made me senator." 
Just at this juncture it became possible for the anti-slavery men of Massachu- 
setts to form a coalition which 
sent Sumner to the United States 
Senate, a result due in part to 
the felicity of this address, but in 
far grreater measure to the untir- 
ing energy, political foresight, 
and diplomatic skill of Henry 
Wilson. 

Sumner had never taken an 
active part in political matters, 
and had never filled a public 
office ; and he entered the Senate 
at a time when many leaders of 
thought would have agreed with 
Senator Benton, who said to him, 
" You come upon the stage too 
late, sir ; the great issues are all 
settled." Three other senators, 
Seward, Chase, and Hale, were 
united in purpose with Sumner, 
and were destined to take a large 
part in proving that the "great 
issue" of slavery had not been 

" settled " by the dishonest compromises of the previous decades. Sumner's 
attitude is well indicated by Theodore Parker's remark in congratulating him 
upon his election : " You once told me you were not in politics, but in morals ; 
now I hope you will show morals in politics." 

His impatient constituents were disappointed and dissatisfied that he did 
not find an early opportunity to make in the Senate a great speech on the 
slavery question. The session was almost closing when he finally secured the 
opportunity, and then he spoke for nearly four hours in support of the doctrine, 
entirely new in Congress, that freedom was national, and slavery "in every 




FRANKLIN PIERCE. 



270 CHARLES SUMNER. 

respect sectional." "This is the first time in the course of my life," was the 
remark of a prominent senator, "that I have listened to the whole of an aboli- 
tion speech. 1 did not know it was possible that I could endure a speech for over 
three hours upon the subject of the abolition of slavery. But this oration of the 
senator from Massachusetts has been so handsomely embellished with poetry, 
both Latin and English, so full of classical allusions and rhetorical flourishes, as 
to make it much more palatable than I supposed it could have been made." 

At the ne.xt session of Congress began the great parliamentary struggle 
over the Kansas-Nebraska question, which was to end only by merging into the 
war of the rebellion. The turmoil in Congress and throughout the country was 
of a character almost inconceivable in these quieter times. The enforcement 
of the Fugitive Slave law was e.xasperating the North, and resistance to it drove 
the pro-slavery men fairly mad. 

"THE CRIME AGAINST KANS.\S." 

For a considerable time Sumner held no place on any committee of the 
Senate, that body having taken the extraordinary course of voting that he "was 
outside any healthy political organization," and was not, therefore, entitled to 
share in its councils. This was due to his fearless attitude, his persistence, and 
the unassailable logic of his many speeches upon the great topic of the day. 
He was probably the first great Northerner who could successfully oppose the 
hot, abusive speech of the Southern advocates of slavery. His coolness, his great 
learning, his sense of superiority, and his knowledge of his own high purpose, 
enabled him to throw into his words and into his manner an overwhelming con- 
tempt and scorn which heated the furnace of -Southern hatred seven times 
hotter even than it was wont to be heated. In this sort of excited discussion the 
time went on, bringing the crisis in 1856. In May of that year Sumner spoke 
for two days upon "The Crime against Kansas." The speech has been called 
" the most signal combination of oratorical splendor that has ever been wit- 
nessed in that hall," while an opponent declared it "the most un-American and 
unpatriotic that ever grated on the ears of the Senate." The speech was in large 
part devoted to a castigation of Senator Butler of South Carolina, whose argu- 
ments it refuted, and whom the speaker scornfully alluded to in many offensive 
figures and illustrations. The Southerners were driven to desperation. They 
had put .Sumner outside the pale of gentlemen, and therefore could not chal- 
lenge him, and it was left for Preston Brooks, a relative of Senator Butler and 
a member of the House of Representatives, to devise a plan for chastising 
him. Accompanied by a number of friends, he entered the Senate chamber, 
approached .Sumner, who was writing at his desk, and, with a gutta-percha 
cane, struck him blow after blow upon the head. His position at his desk 
prevented resistance or escape, and Brooks was able to safely walk away, leav- 



RETURN AFTER THE BROOKS ASSAULT. 



271 



ing his victim lying senseless and bloody upon the floor. The deed aroused 
universal horror in the North, and it is one of the astonishing facts of the time 
that it seemed to excite universal commendation in the South. Brooks became 
a social lion, and his praise filled the Southern newspapers. His injuries 
necessitated Sumner's absence from the Senate for four years, during which 
time the Massachusetts Legislature allowed his seat in the Senate to remain 
unfilled. He visited Europe twice, gradually recovering his strength after 
heroic treatment at the hands of Dr. Brown-Sequard. During the second of 
these European journeys he began the collection of bric-a-brac, which became 
a passion with him, and which converted his Washington residence into a veri- 
table museum of the fine arts. 

Mr. Sumner's return to the Senate was marked by a great speech upon the 
same general subject 
as that which resulted 
in his prolonged ab- 
sence, the admission of 
Kansas, though the 
proposition now was to 
admit her as a free 
State. He took an ac- 
tive part in the Lincoln 
and Hamlin campaign, 
but was greatly disap- 
pointed that the new 
administration did not 
assume a more radical 
position upon the sub- 
ject of slavery, though 
he took a largre share in 
perfecting every great measure not only then, but throughout the war. " It was 
his part to discover constitutional authority and legal or political precedent, and 
his mission to keep the popular heart fired with such enthusiasm as would fur- 
nish a strong support to the government." He was made chairman of the Senate 
Committee on Foreign Affairs, a position for which his knowledge of European 
matters and his extraordinary familiarity with constitutional history peculiarly 
fitted him, and in which he rendered distinguished service, being in constant 
consultation with Lincoln and Seward, and frequently making use of his per- 
sonal friendship with English and French statesmen. 

Throughout the war Lincoln was too slow and Seward too cautious for the 
enthusiastic senator, who could not see any expediency or propriety in any 
course except that outlined by what he believed absolute right. He was con- 




THE VACANT SEAT IN THE SENATE, DRAPED IN BLACK. 



272 CHARLES SUMNER. 

tinually opposed to the measures adopted concerning the negro and reconstruc- 
tion, and frequently to the foreign poHcy ; but, fortunately for the nation, the 
President and his crreat minister knew how to deal with the no less great 
chairman, and they constantly succeeded in making use of his vast resources 
without antagonizing him, — in fact, allowing him to believe, in many cases, 
that they were adopting his policy and were governed by his advice. He was, 
indeed, consulted at every step, but he was so sensitive of temper, and so 
impatient of opposition, or even of a difference of opinion, that it required the 
greatest tact for those who were responsible in the conduct of affairs to keep 
him loyally working with them. " Don't I get along well with Sumner? " asked 
Lincoln ; " he thinks he manages me." So poor an opinion did Sumner have 
of the great man whom he so thoroughly misunderstood that he joined in the 
intrigue to make Chase the Republican candidate for President in 1864, and is 
even said to have wished that the ticket, Lincoln and Johnson, might have been 
reversed, and Johnson made President. How grievous was his mistake he was 
to learn. 

Lincoln and Sumner differed very radically as to proper measures for the 
reconstruction of the Southern States. So wide was this difference, that Sumner 
•was .willing to defeat in the last days of the session, by the objectionable 
method of resolutely talking on until it was withdrawn, a bill for re-organizing 
the Louisiana government in which Lincoln was much interested. It was 
generally reported that this action had caused a breach of friendly relations 
between them, something which Sumner's touchy nature would have rendered 
unavoidable had he been dealino- with one less willinsf to sink all considerations 
of self in labor for the cfeneral sfood. The stories of the estrangement were 
definitely contradicted by their appearing together at the inaugural ball, Sumner 
going at the personal invitation of the President. 

AFTER THE WAR. 

After the assassination of the President, Sumner's confidence in Johnson 
soon gave way to suspicion and distrust, and so fully was this feeling recipro- 
cated that the President described Davis, Toombs, Slidell, Thaddeus Stevens, 
Wendell Phillips, and Sumner as equally their country's enemies. The quarrel 
between Congress and the Executive hastened to its culmination. Secretary 
Stanton was suspended by the President and reinstated by the Senate, again 
ordered to vacate, and refused to obey. Sumner's attitude in this matter, as 
well as the terse style of his informal correspondence, is well illustrated by his 
note : — 

Mv De \r Stanton, — Stick ! 

Ever sincerely yours, 

C. S. 



HIS COURSE IN OPPOSITION. 



273 



He actively favored the impeachment of Johnson, and in the Senate, sitting 
as a high court of judgment, labored earnestly for a verdict of "guilty," and 
hotly resented the action of those Republicans who prevented, by a single vote, 
such a conclusion. But his relations with Grant were hardly more satisfactory 
than with Johnson. Few men have, as Lincoln had, the power of understanding 
and sympathizing with a very wide range of differing characters, and Grant and 
Sumner utterly failed to comprehend each other's singleness of mind and right- 
ness of purpose. So complete did this misunderstanding become that, by the 
time our relations with England were adjusted and the High Joint Commission 
began its sittings in Washington, 
there was no longer any inter- 
course between the President or 
Secretary Fish and Mr. Sumner, 
and the deposing of the latter 
from his position as chairman of 
the Committee on Foreign Affairs 
seemed, at the opening of the 
next Congress, a necessity. 

In perfecting the measures 
concerning reconstruction and 
the altered position of the negro 
Mr. Sumner took a leading part. 
He was strongly opposed to the 
thirteenth and fourteenth amend- 
ments to the Constitution, upon 
the ground that they were un- 
necessary, though he finally 
changed his position sufficiently 
to give them a lukewarm sup- 
port. The fifteenth amendment, 




guaranteemg 



equal rights to all 



JAMES BUCHANAN. 



miofht 



men without distinction, 

seem to be the consummation of his life's work, but he opposed it upon the 

same ground as the others, and finally voted against it. 

After the close of the war, Mr. Sumner turned his attention to the securing 
of civil rights to the freed and recently enfranchised negroes. Measures for this 
purpose he advocated on all occasions, keeping the subject in mind until the 
very last, when almost his dying speech was addressed to Judge Hoar: "Do 
not let the Civil Rights Bill fail." Upon the opening of the Forty-second Con- 
gress, he offered a resolution directing "that the names of battles with fellow- 
citizens shall not be continued in the Army Register or placed on the regimental 



274 CHARLES SUMNER. 

colors of the United States." This proposition greatly offended a large number 
of his friends, and called forth the formal censure of the Massachusetts Legis- 
lature, much to his mortification. The resolution was doubtless instigated, as 
was suggested in the preamble, mainly by a desire to efface the memory of past 
differences and to remove every occasion for harsh feeling. The action of the 
Legislature was, two years later, "rescinded and annulled," and information of 
this fact reached Mr. Sumner just in time to soothe the last days of his life. 
He died in Washington, of heart disease, March ii, 1874. 

It remains to add a few words as to some personal facts. Charles Sumner 
united to those qualities of mind and heart which made him so intensely loved 
by his friends and so conspicuously useful as a public servant, a personal appear- 
ance and carriage which added materially to his attractiveness and gave 
additional force to his public appearances. He was over six feet in height, and 
of commanding presence, dignified, grandly courteous, uniformly kind in his 
address. With this he combined a transparent and simple-minded vanity and a 
peculiar lack of humor, described by Dana in saying : " Poor Sumner, he can't 
take a joke of any kind ; he is as literal as a Scotch guldeboard." There was 
also in his constitution a peculiar inability to recognize some of his own failings. 
He always regarded himself as the most forgiving and the most moderate of 
men, and used in later years to ask what there was in his speech of 1856 to 
excite the hostility of Senator Butler's friends, — a speech whose bitter sarcasm 
and excoriating language could not but cut to the quick, however it might be 
justified by the facts. No man was ever better loved, and it was those who 
knew him most intimately who were most closely attached ; but his married life, 
which began only in 1866, when he was rapidly approaching threescore years, 
endured less than a year, though a formal divorce was not obtained until six 
years later. 

But matters purely personal concern us little. Sumner will live in the 
public mind as the great American who astounded a pro-slavery Congress by 
the declaration that freedom was national, slavery sectional ; as one who, not 
so much coundng the cost as absolutely oblivious to it, threw into his advocacy 
of the cause of the oppressed an erudition which laid under tribute the litera- 
tures of all ages and all civilized peoples, a knowledge of history, and an 
acquaintance with men unequaled among his contemporaries, and a personal 
force and commanding presence which made him " the finest specimen of a man 
seen in Congress since Daniel Webster." 

His remains were escorted to Boston by the customary Congressional 
committee, and laid in the beautiful cemetery of Mount Auburn. " His undy- 
ing fame the Muse of History had already taken into her keeping." 




MAIN BUILDING OF THE CENTENNIAL EXPOSITION, OPENED BY PRESIDENT GRANT IN 1S76. 



ULYSSES S. GRANT, 

THE HERO OE THE CIVIL WAH. 




HE history of the War for the Union ought to forever set at 
rest the idea that the day of heroes is past — that there 
are no longer great men to be found in occasions of su- 
preme need. Never was a great nation seemingly more 
helpless than the United States when Lincoln was inaugu- 
rated. Without army or navy, a government honeycombed 
with treason and apparently falling to pieces, a weak and 
nerveless administration giving place to one made up of 
new and untried men, a people without unity of mind or pur- 
pose, and not knowing whom to trust, — this was the situa- 
tion which loyal men faced with sinking hearts. Yet only 
ten days later, when the boom of guns in Charleston harbor echoed over the 
North, all was changed as in the twinkling of an eye. At the call of the new 
President for aid, it seemed as though armed men sprang from the ground. 
And among them were not only soldiers, but commanders, — the men who were 
needed to organize and drill these hosts, to convert them into a great army, and 
lead them on to victory. 

When the war broke out, Ulysses S. Grant was working for his father and 
brother, who carried on a leather and saddlery business in Galena, Illinois. His 
life had been, up to that time, a failure. Educated at West Point, he had gradu- 
ated with a record not quite up to the average of his class, and was distin- 
guished only as a fine horseman. He had, indeed, won credit and promotion in 

277 



278 ULYSSES S. GRANT. 

the Mexican War; but in 1854 he resigned from the army, with a record not 
entirely blameless, and went with his wife and two children to her former home 
at St. Louis. He was absolutely penniless, and without trade or profession. 
His wife had received from her father a farm of seventy acres and three slaves. 
To this farm Grant went with his little family. He worked hard. He raised 
wheat and potatoes, and cut up trees into cordwood, and tried to make a 
hving selling the produce of the farm in St. Louis. In this he was not success 
ful. He then tried auctioneering and collecting bills, and made an effort in the 
real estate business. Finally he went to Galena, where he entered his father's 
store, his record up to that time being one of vain struggle, failure, and poverty. 
Such was the man who was suddenly to become the greatest of the Union com- 
manders, and to be regarded by the American people as one of the chief instru- 
ments in saving the life of the nation. 

But occasion does not form a man's character anew ; it simply calls out the 
qualities which are in him, perhaps unknown or unperceived. It is not hard 
now to see in the acts of Grant's youth how the boy was " father of the man." 
When only twelve years old he was one day sent with a team into the woods for 
a load of logs, which were to be loaded on the trucks by the lumbermen. No 
men were to be found ; nevertheless, by using the strength of the horses, he 
succeeded in loadin"- the loirs himself When he returned, his father asked 
where the men were. "I don't know, and I don't care," said the plucky boy ; 
"I got the load without them." 

In such acts we get a glimpse of the boldness, the readiness of resource, 
and especially the dogged determination, which afterward made him such a 
power in the war. "Wherever Grant is, I have nodced that things move," said 
President Lincoln. When, before leaving Missouri for the Me.xican frontier, 
Grant rode to the home of Miss Julia Dent, four miles from where he was 
stationed, to ask her hand in marriage, he had to cross a swollen stream, in 
which his uniform was thoroughly soaked. Bound on such an errand, most men 
would have turned back ; but Grant rode on, borrowed a dry suit from his 
future brother-in-law, and accomplished the business in hand. Well might his 
wife say, in her quaint fashion, " Mr. Grant is a very obstinate man." 

BREAKING OUT OF THE WAR. 

On April 1 5, i860, the telegraph flashed over the country President Lincoln's 
call for seventy-five thousand volunteers. That evening the court-house in 
Galena was packed with an excited crowd, women as well as men. Grant, 
being known as a West Pointer, was called upon to preside. This was not the 
kind of duty for which he was prepared, but, he says, " With much embarrass- 
ment and some prompting, I made out to announce the object of the meeting." 
Volunteers were called for, a company was raised upon the spot, and the 



CAPTURE OF FORT DONELSON. 279 

officers voted for. Before the balloting began Grant declined the captaincy, 
but promised to help all he could, and to be found in the service, in some 
position. 

In August, 1 86 1, Grant was made a brigadier-general, and put in command 
of the district of Southeast Missouri, including Western Kentucky and Cairo, 
Illinois, a point of great importance at the junction of the Mississippi and Ohio 
rivers. His first battle was at Belmont, Missouri, about twenty miles below 
Cairo, which he won after four hours' hard fighting. After the battle the Con- 
federates received reinforcements, and there was danger that Grant's troops 
would be cut off from the boats by which they had come. The men perceived 
the situation, and exclaimed, " We are surrounded ! " 

"Well," was Grant's characteristic reply, " we must cut our way out, then, 
as we cut our way in." And they did. 

The autumn and winter of 1861-62 was a time of weary waiting, which 
severely tried the spirit of the nation, impatient for action. Attention was chiefly 
concentrated upon the Potomac, where McClellan was organizing and drilling 
that splendid army which another and a greater commander was to lead to final 
victory. While the only response to the people's urgent call, " On to Rich- 
mond !" was the daily report, "All quiet on the Potomac," Grant, an obscure 
and almost unknown soldier, was pushing forward against Forts Henry and 
Donelson, eleven miles apart, on the Tennessee and the Cumberland, near 
where these rivers cross the line dividing Kentucky and Tennessee. He had 
obtained from his commander, Halleck, a reluctant consent to his plan for 
attacking these important posts by a land force, co-operating at the same time 
with a fleet of gunboats under Commodore Foote. It was bitter cold. Amid 
sleet and snow the men pushed along the muddy roads, arriving at Fort Henry 
just as it was captured, after a severe bombardment, by the gunboats. Grant 
immediately turned his attention to Fort Donelson, which had been reinforced 
by a large part of the garrison which had escaped from Fort Henry. It was 
held by Generals Buckner, Floyd, and Pillow, with 20,000 men. For three 
days a fierce attack was kept up ; and Buckner, who, having been at West 
Point with Grant, doubtless knew that he was "a very obstinate man," sent on 
the morning of the fourth day, under a flag of truce, to ask what terms of sur- 
render would be granted. In reply Grant sent that brief stern message which 
thrilled throughout the North, stirring the blood in every loyal heart : — 

" No TERMS BUT UNCONDITIONAL AND IMMEDIATE SURRENDER CAN BE ACCEPTED. I PROPOSE 
TO MOVE IMMEDIATELY UPON YOUR WORKS." 

Buckner protested against the terms ; but he wisely accepted them, and 
surrendered unconditionally. With Fort Donelson were surrendered 15,000 
men, 3000 horses, sixty-five cannon, and a great quantity of small arms and 




DECORATION DAY. 



DARK DAYS OF 1862-63. 281 



'^j 



military stores. It was the first great victory for the North, and the whole 
country was electrified. Grant's reply to Buckner became a household word, 
and the people of the North delighted to call him " Unconditional Surrender 
Grant." He was made a major-general, his commission bearing date of Feb- 
ruary 16, 1862, the day of the surrender of Fort Donelson. 

THE BATTLE OF SHILOH. 

The next great battle fought by Grant was that of Shiloh, in Mississippi, — 
" the Waterloo of the Western campaign," as it has been called. In this battle 
Sherman was Grant's chief lieutenant, and the two men tested each other's 
qualities in the greatest trial to which either had been exposed. The battle was 
one of the turning-points of the war. The Confederates, under Albert Sidney 
Johnston, one of their best generals, attacked the Union forces at Shiloh Church. 
All day Sunday the battle raged. The brave Johnston was killed ; but the 
Union forces were driven back, and at niofht their lines were a mile in the rear 
of their position in the morning. Grant came into his headquarters tent that 
evening, when, to any but the bravest and most sanguine, the battle seemed lost, 
and said : " Well, it was tough work to-day, but we will beat them out of their 
boots to-morrow." " When his staff and the generals present heard this," 
writes one of his officers, "they were as fully persuaded of the result of the 
morrow's battle as when the victory had actually been achieved." 

The next day, after dreadful fighting, the tide turned in favor of the Union 
forces. In the afternoon, Grant himself led a charge against the Confederate 
lines, under which they broke and were driven back. Night found the Union 
army in possession of the field, after one of the severest battles of the war. 

"The path to glory," says a wise Frenchman, "is not a way of flowers." 
After the battle of Shiloh, Grant was bitterly assailed as a "butcher," as "incom 
petent," and as being a " drunkard," — a charge which was utterly false. When 
President Lincoln was told that Grant "drank too much whiskey," he replied, 
with characteristic humor, that he wished he knew what brand General Grant 
used, as he would like to send some to the other Union generals. The abuse 
of which he was the object did not seem to trouble Grant. The more other 
people's tongues wagged about him, the more he held his own. 

The winter of 1862-63, the second year of the war, was full of gloom for 
the North. The Confederate cause was farther advanced than at the beginning 
of the war. Many loyal people despaired of ever saving the Union. Although 
President Lincoln himself never lost faith in the final triumph of the national 
cause, the cabinet and Congress were uneasy and anxious. The fall elections 
went against the party which advocated the carrying on of the war. Voluntary 
enlistments had ceased, and it became necessary to resort to the draft. Unless 
a great success came to restore the spirit of the North, it seemed probable that 



282 ULYSSES S. GRANT. 

the draft would be resisted, that men would begin to desert, and that the power 
to capture and punish deserters would be lost. In a word, it seemed that a 
great success was absolutely necessary to prevent the Union army and the 
Union cause from going to pieces. It was Grant's conviction that the army 
must at all hazards '' go forward to a decisive victory." 

THE VICKSBURG CAMPAIGN, 

On a high bluff on the east bank of the Mississippi river, which pursues a 
winding course through its fertile valley, stood the town of Vicksburg. From 
this point a railroad ran to the eastward, and from the opposite shore another 
ran westward through the rich, level country of Louisiana. The town was 
strongly fortified, and from its elevation it commanded the river in both directions. 
So long as it was held by the Confederate armies, the Mississippi could not be 
opened to navigation ; and the line of railroad running east and west kept com- 
munication open between the western and eastern parts of the Confederacy. 
How to capture V^icksburg was a great problem ; but it was one which General 
Grant determined should be solved. 

For eight months Grant worked at this problem. He formed plan after 
plan, only to be forced to give them up. Sherman made a direct attack at the 
only place where it was practicable to make a landing, and failed. Weeks were 
spent in cutting a canal across the neck of a peninsula formed by a great bend 
in the river opposite Vicksburg, so as to bring the gunboats through without 
undergoing the fire of the batteries ; but a flood destroyed the work. Mean- 
while great numbers of the troops were ill with malaria or other diseases, and 
many died. There was much clamor at Washington to have Grant removed, 
but the President refused. He had faith in Grant, and determined to give him 
time to work out the great problem, — how to get below and in the rear of Vicks- 
burg, on the Mississippi river. 

This was at last accomplished. On a dark night the gunboats were suc- 
cessfully run past the batteries, although every one of them was more or less 
damaged by the guns. The troops were marched across the peninsula, and 
then taken over the river ; and on April 30th his whole force was landed on the 
Mississippi side, on high ground, and at a point where he could reach the enemy. 

The railroad running east from \'icksburg connected it with Jackson, the 
State capital, which was an important railway centre, and from which Vicksburg 
was supplied. Grant made his movements with great rapidity. He fought in 
quick succession a series of battles by which Jackson and several other towns 
were captured ; then, turning westward, he attacked the forces of Pemberton, 
drove him back into Vicksburg, cut off his supplies, and laid siege to the place. 

The eyes of the whole nation were now centred on Vicksburg. Over two 
hundred guns were brought to bear upon the place, besides the batteries of the 



SURRENDER OF VICKSBURG. 283 

gunboats. In default of mortars, guns were improvised by boring out tough 
logs, strongly bound with iron bands, which did good service. The people of 
Vicksburg lived in cellars and caves to escape the shot and shell. Food of all 
kinds became very scarce ; flour was sold at five dollars a pound, molasses at 
twelve dollars a gallon. The endurance and devotion of the inhabitants were 
wonderful. But the siege was so rigidly and relentlessly maintained that there 
could be but one end. On July 3d, at ten o'clock, flags of truce were displayed 
on the works, and General Pemberton sent a message to Grant asking for an 
armistice, and proposing that commissioners be appointed to arrange terms of 
capitulation. 

On the afternoon of the same day. Grant and Pemberton met under an oak 
between the lines of the two armies and arranged the terms of surrender. It 
took three hours for the Confederate army to march out and stack their arms. 
There were surrendered 31,000 men, 250 cannon, and a great quantity of arms 
and munitions of war. But the moral advantage to the Union cause was far 
beyond any material gain. The fall of Vicksburg carried with it Port Hudson, 
a few miles below, which surrendered to Banks a few days later, and at last the 
great river was open from St. Louis to the sea. 

The news of this great victory came to the North on the same day with that 
of Gettysburg, July 4, 1863. The rejoicing over the great triumph is indescri- 
bable. A heavy load was lifted from the minds of the President and cabinet. 
The North took heart, and resolved again to prosecute the war with energy. 
The name of Grant was on every tongue. It was everywhere felt that he was 
the foremost man of the campaign. He was at once made a major-general in 
the regular army, and a gold medal was awarded him by Congress. 

Early in September, 1863, General Grant paid a visit to General Banks, in 
New Orleans, and while there had a narrow escape from death. Riding one day 
in the suburbs, his horse took fright at a locomotive, and came in collision with a 
carriage, throwing himself down and falling on his rider. From this severe fall 
Grant was confined to his bed for several weeks. On his return to Vicksburg, 
he was allowed but a brief period to rest and recover from his accident. He was 
invested with the command of the consolidated Departments of the South and 
West, as the Military Division oi the Mississippi, and at once moved to Eastern 
Tennessee. 

LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN AND MISSIONARY RIDGE. 

The town of Chattanooga, an important railway centre, lies in the beauti- 
ful valley of the Tennessee river, near where it crosses the line into Alabama. 
Directly south the front of Lookout Mountain rises abruptly to a height of two 
thousand feet above the sea level, affordino- a masfnificent view which extends 
into six different States, and of the Tennessee river for thirty miles of its wind- 
ing course. Two miles to the east, running from north to south, is the crest of 
17 



284 



C-LVSSES S. GRANT. 



Missionary Ridge, five hundred feet high, — the site of schools and churches 
established long ago by Catholic missionaries among the Cherokee Indians. 
Both Lookout Mountain and Missionary Ridge were occupied by the army of 
General Bragg, and his commanding position, strengthened by fortifications, 
was considered impregnable. 

The disastrous battle of Chickamauga, in September, 1863, had left the 
Union armies in East Tennessee in a perilous situation. General Thomas, in 
Chattanooga, was hemmed in by the Confederate forces, and his men and horses 
were almost starving. The army was on quarter rations. Ammunition was 
almost exhausted, and the troops were short of clothing. Thousands of army 
mules, worn out and starved, lay dead along the miry roads. Chattanooga, 







U.NITKD STATES MINT, NEW ORLEANS. 



occupied by the Union army, was too strongly fortified for Bragg to take it by 
storm, Vjut every day shells from his batteries upon the heights were thrown 
into the town. This was the situation when Grant, stiff and sore from his 
accident, arrived at Nashville, on his way to direct the campaign in East Ten- 
nessee. 

" Hold Chattanooga at all hazards. I will be there as soon as possible," he 
telegraphed from Nashville to General Thomas. " We will hold the town until 
we starve," was the brave reply. 

Grant's movements were rapid and decisive. He ordered the troops con- 
centrated at Chattanooga ; he fought a battle at Wauhatchie, in Lookout Valley, 



COMMANDER OF ALL THE ARMIES. 285 

which broke Brag'Sf's hold on the river below Chattanoora and shortened the 
Union line of supplies ; and by his prompt and vigorous preparation for effec- 
tive action he soon had his troops lifted out of the demoralized condition in 
which they had sunk after the defeat of Chickamauga. One month after his 
arrival were fought the memorable battles of Lookout Mountain and Missionary 
Ridge, by which the Confederate troops were driven out of Tennessee, their 
hold on the country broken up, and a large number of prisoners and guns 
captured. Nothing in the history of war is more inspiring than the impetuous 
bravery with which the Union troops fought their way up the steep mountain 
sides, bristling with cannon, and drove the Confederate troops out of their works 
at the point of the bayonet. An officer of General Bragg's staff afterward 
declared that they considered their position perfectly impregnable, and that 
when they saw the Union troops, after capturing their rifle-pits at the base, 
coming up the craggy mountain toward their headquarters, they could scarcely 
credit their eyes, and thought that every man of them must be drunk. History 
has no parallel for sublimity and picturesqueness of effect, while the conse- 
quences, which were the division of the Confederacy in the East, were inesti- 
mable. 

After Grant's success in Tennessee, the popular demand that he should be 
put at the head of all the armies became irresistible. In Virginia the magnifi- 
cent Army of the Potomac, after two years of fighting, had been barely able to 
turn back from the North the tide of Confederate invasion, and was apparently 
as far as ever from capturing Richmond. In the West, on the other hand. 
Grant's campaigns had won victory after victory, had driven the opposing forces 
out of Missouri, Arkansas, Kentucky, and Tennessee, had taken Vicksburg, 
opened up the Mississippi, and divided the Confederacy in both the West and 
the East. In response to the call for Grant, Congress revived the grade of 
lieutenant-general, which had been held by only one commander, Scott, since the 
time of Washino-ton ; and the hero of Fort Donelson, Vicksburof, and Chatta- 
nooga was nominated by the President, confirmed by the Senate, and placed in 
command of all the armies of the nation. 

The relief of President Lincoln at having such a man in command was very 
great. "Grant is the first o^cneral Vv& had," he remarked to a friend. "You 
know how it has been with all the rest. As soon as I put a man in command 
of the army, he would come to me with a plan, and about as much as say. 
Now, I don't believe I can do it, but if you say so I'll try it on,' and so put the 
responsibility of success or failure upon me. They all wanted vie to be the 
general. Now, it isn't so with Grant. He hasn't told me what his plans are. I 
don't know, and I don't want to know. I am glad to find a man who can go 
ahead without me. 

"When any of the rest set out on a campaign," added the President, "they 



286 



ULYSSES S. GRANT. 



would look over matters and pick ovit some one thing they were short of, and 
which they knew I couldn't give them, and tell me they couldn't hope to win 
unless they had it ; and it was most generally cavalry. Now, when Grant took 
hold, I was waiting to see what his pet 
impossibility would be, and I reckoned 
it would be cavalry, of course, for we 
hadn't enough horses to mount what 
men we had. There 
were fifteen thousand 
men up near Harp- 
er's Ferry, and no 
horses to put them 
on. Well, the other 
day Grant sends to 
me about those very 
men, just as I ex- 




ted ; but what he 

ted to know was 

whether he could 

make infantry of 

them or disband them. He doesn't 

ask impossibilities of me, and he's 

the first general I've had that 

didn't." 

With the army thoroughly 
reorganized. Grant crossed the 
Rapidan on the 4th of May ; on 
the 5th and 6th crippled the prin- 
cipal Confederate army, com- 
manded by Lee, in the terrible 
battles of the Wilderness ; flanked 
him on the left ; fought at Spott- 
sylvania Court House on the 7th, again on the loth, and still again on the 12th, 
on which last occasion he captured a whole division of the Confederate army. 
Thus during the summer of 1864 he kept up an unceasing warfare, ever pursu- 
ing the offensive, and daily drawing nearer to the rebel capital, until at last he 
drove the enemy within the defenses of Richmond. 



MOIST WEATHER AT THE FRONT. 



THE VIRGINIA CAMPAIGN. 287 

Never was the persistent courage, the determined purpose which was the 
foundation of Grant's character, more clearly brought out than in the Virginia 
campaign of 1864; and never was it more needed. Well did he know that no 
single triumph, however bfilliant, would win. He saw plainly that nothing but 
" hammering away " would avail. The stone wall of the Confederacy had too 
broad and firm a base to be suddenly overturned ; it had to be slowly reduced 
to powder. 

During the anxious days which followed the battle of the Wilderness, Frank 
B. Carpenter, the artist, relates that he asked President Lincoln, " How does 
Grant impress you as compared with other generals ? " 

" The great thing about him," said the President, "is cool persistency of 
purpose. He is not easily excited, and he has the grip of a bull-dog. When 
he once gets Ids tcetli in, nothing can shake him off." 

His great opponent, Lee, saw and felt that same quality. When, after 
days of indecisive battle, the fighting in the Wilderness came to a pause, it was 
believed in the Confederate lines that the Union troops were falling back. 
General Gordon said to Lee,— 

" I think there is no doubt that Grant is retreating." 

The Confederate chief knew better. He shook his head. 

" You are mistaken," he replied, earnestly, — " quite mistaken. Grant is not 
retreating ; he is not a retreating man." 

Spottsylvania followed, then North Anna, Cold Harbor, and Chickahominy, 
Then Grant changed his base to the James river, and attacked Petersburg. 
Slowly but surely the Union lines closed in. " Falling back " on the Union side 
had gone out of fashion. South or North, all could see that now a steady, re- 
sistless force was back of the Union armies, pushing them ever on toward Rich- 
mond. 

Grant's losses in the final campaign were heavy, but Lee's slender resources 
were wrecked in a much more serious proportion ; and for the Confederates no 
recruiting was possible. Their dead, who lay so thickly beneath the fields, were 
the children of the soil, and there were none t® replace them. Sometimes whole 
families had been destroyed ; but the survivors still fought on. In the Confede- 
rate lines around Petersburg there was often absolute destitution. An officer 
who was there testified, shortly after the end of the struggle, that every cat and 
dog for miles around had been caught and eaten. Grant was pressing onward ; 
Sherman's march through Georgia and the Carolinas had proved that the Con- 
federacy was an egg-shell ; Sheridan's splendid cavalry was ever hovering round 
the last defenders of the bars and stripes. Grant saw that all was over, and on 
April 7, 1865, he wrote that memorable letter calling upon Lee to surrender, 
and bring the war to an end. 

The Virginia hamlet dignified by the name of Appomattox Court House 



LEE'S SURRENDER. 289 

comprised, in the spring of 1865, five houses, the largest of which, a brick dwell- 
ing, was the home of Wilmer McLean. In front was a pleasant yard, smiling 
with the sweet flowers of early spring. In this house, in the afternoon of the 
9th of April, General Lee and General Grant met to arrange for the surrender 
of Lee's army, which was in effect the end of the Southern Confederacy. 
"When I had left camp that morning," writes Grant, "I had not expected so 
soon the result that was then taking place, and consequently was in rough garb. 
I was without a sword, as I usually was when on horseback in the field, and 
wore a soldier's blouse for a coat, with shoulder-straps of my rank to indicate 
to the army who I was. When I went into the house I found General Lee. We 
greeted each other, and after shaking hands took our seats. 

" General Lee was dressed in a full uniform which was entirely new, and 
was wearing a sword of considerable value, very likely the sword which had 
been presented by the State of Virginia ; at all events, it was an entirely differ- 
ent one from the sword that would ordinarily be worn in the field. In my rough 
traveling-suit, the uniform of a private with the straps of a lieutenant-general, 
I must have contrasted very strangely with a man so handsomely dressed, six 
feet high, and of faultless form ; but this is not a matter that I thought of until 
afterward." 

The terms of surrender allowed by Grant were most generous. Officers 
and men were to be paroled. The officers were allowed to retain their side- 
arms, their baggage, and their horses ; and, with humane consideration for the 
men who had lost everything, the men were allowed to keep their horses. " I 
took it," says Grant, " that most of the men were small farmers. The whole 
country had been so raided by the two armies that it was doubtful w^hether they 
would be able to put in a crop to carry themselves and their families through 
the next winter without the aid of the horses they were then riding. The 
United States did not want them ; and I would therefore instruct the officers 
... to let every man . . . who claimed to own a horse or mule take the 
animal to his home. Lee remarked again that this would have a happy effect." 

Grant also supplied rations from his own stores to Lee's starving army. 
For some days they had been living on parched corn. He gave them forage 
for their horses ; and when the Union soldiers began firing a salute of one hun- 
dred guns to celebrate the surrender. Grant ordered the firing stopped. "The 
Confederates," he wrote, "were now our prisoners, and we did not want to exult 
over their downfall." Reading of such actions toward a conquered foe, it is not 
hard to understand why, twenty years later, the South and the North together 
read with tears the bulletins from Grant's bedside, and why the soldiers who 
fought against him joined at his grave in the last tribute of love and honor. 

The rejoicing throughout the North over the surrender of Lee's army and 
the restoration of the Union was checked by the sudden blow of the assassin 



290 



ULYSSES S. GRANT. 



of the President, which changed that rejoicing to mourning. The death of 
Lincoln left Grant the foremost American in the hearts of the people. In the 
political turmoil which followed the accession of Johnson to the Presidency, and 
in the period of "reconstruction," while much of the South was under martial 
law. Grant, as head of the army, necessarily held a prominent place. His 
popularity increased, and his nomination for the presidency in 1868 was a fore- 
•^one conclusion. In 1872 he was re-elected, this time over Horace Greeley. 
His popularity was so general that the opposition to him was insignificant. 




GENERAL GRANT AND I.I HUNG CIIANC, VIPRROY OF rHI\A. 



At the close of his second term he was succeeded by Rutherford B. Hayes, who 
was declared elected by the famous Electoral Commission, after the disputed 
election of 1876. 

Grant was by nature and training a soldier, not a civil administrator; and 
while there was much to admire in his career as President, there is also much 
that has been severely criticised. Accustomed to repose absolute confidence in 
his friends, he was deceived and made use of by adroit and unscrupulous men. 



HONORS FROM ALL NATIONS. 291 

against whom he was powerless to defend himself. The unsettled state of the 
country after the civil war, the political and race prejudices which disturbed the 
South, the ignorance and helplessness of the freedmen, and the denial of their 
rights, all combined to make the task of government a most difficult and delicate 
one. But whether Grant's civil career be considered successful or not, it soon 
became evident that he had not lost his hold on the affectionate admiration of 
the people, and that his fame abroad was as great as at home. After the close 
of his second term, in May, 1877, he sailed from Philadelphia for a tour around 
the world, which for over two years was made one long-continued ovation, more 
like the triumphal progress of a great monarch than the journey of a private citi- 
zen. By all the great nations of Europe and Asia he was received with every 
mark of the highest honor. He was the guest of emperors, kings, and municipal- 
ities, and welcomed with tokens of good-will equally by the proudest and the 
humblest of the people. Throughout Europe, Turkey, Persia, India, China, and 
Japan he journeyed, and when at last he landed at San Francisco, the demon- 
stration in his honor surpassed anything before seen on the Pacific coast. It is 
perhaps not too much to say that until their eyes were opened by his reception 
abroad, the American people did not themselves appreciate Grant's real great- 
ness and the extent of his fame. 

grant's troubles and how he met them. 

But nothing in all his career did so much to fix Grant in the affection of the 
country as the events of the last year of his life. After his return from abroad 
he had, at the solicitation of his son, joined the firm of Ward & Fish, in New 
York, and put all his savings into it. The business seemed to go on prosper- 
ously, — so prosperously that Grant believed himself worth a million dollars. He 
himself gave no attention to the business, confiding entirely in the active part- 
ners. A sudden and appalling exposure followed in May, 1884. One morning 
Grant went down to the office in Wall Street, and found that Ward had 
absconded, and that he and his children were utterly ruined. Only a few days 
before, Ward had induced him to borrow one hundred thousand dollars, under 
the pretence that this sum would enable him to discharge some pressing claims 
upon a bank in which the firm had large deposits. Grant went to W. H. Van- 
derbilt and asked for the money as a loan. Vanderbilt sat down and drew a 
check for it, and handed it to his visitor. Grant had no idea that the firm with 
which his name had been identified existed upon sheer roguery. But all the 
papers were soon full of the shameful story. The famous soldier saw but too 
clearly that he had been used as a decoy by an abominable swindler. House, 
money, books, furniture, his swords, and other presents^the money of his chil- 
dren and many of his friends — everything was gone, including, as he thought, 
his honor. It was afterward clearly seen that he had no complicity whatever in 



FINISHING HIS "MEMOIRS." 203 

the frauds committed by his partners,— that he was the chief of the sufferers not 
m any way a culprit. The sympathy of the people went out to him ; once more 
he rallied from enfeebled health and a wounded spirit, and he began to believe 
that m time he might recover from this disastrous blow. 

But another great calamity was hanging over him. A few months after the 
failure of the firm, he began to complain of a pain in his throat. Gradually it 
grew worse ; and at last the dread fact could no longer be concealed that his 
disease was cancer. He had already begun to write his " Memoirs," uraed on 
by the one hope which now remained to him— the hope of making some "provi- 
sion for his family in place of that which they had lost. But the torment which 
now visited h.m, day and night, obliged him to stop. He could not lie down 
without bringing on fits of choking ; he would sit for hours, as General Badeau 
.las said, "propped up in his chair, with his hands clasped, looking at the blank 
wall before him, silent, contemplating the future ; not alarmed, but solemn at the 
prospect of pain and disease, and only death at the end." 

Then there came a change for the better. The kindlv messages which were 
sent to him from all classes of his own countrymen. North and South, and which 
flowed in upon him from England-from the Queen herself— gready cheered 
and consoled him. Again he set to work upon his book, determined to finish it 
before he died. He was further encouraged by the news that Congress had at 
last passed a bill placing him on the retired list of the army. His crood name 
he felt, was once more established. In June, 1885, he seemed to" be a httle 
better ; but the great heat of the city distressed him, and a villa on Mount Mac- 
gregor, near Saratoga, was offered to him by a friend. He knew that he could 
not live. But three families were dependent upon him. If he could complete his 
'' Memoirs," half a million dollars would be earned for them. Aaain and acrain 
he took up pencil and paper-for he could no longer dictate-and wrote, slowly 
and laboriously, as much as he could. No murmur escaped him. Great physi- 
cal prostration, accompanied by inevitable mental depression, often assailed him 
but he summoned all his energies, and came back from the very portals of the 
grave. That his children and grandchildren should not be left to the tender 
mercies of the world,— this was the solitary boon he craved. 

And it was granted. He had just time to write the last page, and then, on 
the 23d of July, the end came genriy to him. With his wife and family still 
around him, he passed away as an over-wearied child might fall asleep. 

The body of the great soldier was laid at rest in Riverside Park New York 
city, beside the Hudson river, after a funeral pageant such as had never been 
witnessed in America. The army, the navy, the milida, the soldiers of the 
Southern army, and hundreds of thousands of cidzens, from the richest to the 
poorest, joined in the solemn procession, and bowed their heads around the 
tomb where his dust was laid. For weeks the whole country had eagerly 



294 



ULYSSES S. GRANT. 



watched for the news from his bedside. Only four days before his death, when 
the darkness was closing in around him, he had finished his " Memoirs," under- 
taken that his debts might be paid and his loved ones provided for. Now, when 
all was over, and the memory of all the nation owed him came back, a united 
people gathered to render at his grave their tributes of love and gratitude. 

When, in 1866, the bill to revive the grade of " General of the Army of 
the United States " was before the House of Representatives, Grant's friend, 
Henr)' C. Deming spoke these true and fitting words : — 

"Time, it is said, devours the proudest human memorial. The impress we 
have made as a nation may be obliterated ; our grandest achievements, even 
those which we now fondly deem eternal, those which embellish the walls of that 
historic rotunda, may all drop from the memory of man Yet we shall not all 
perish. You may rest assured that three A^ncrican names will survive oblivion, 
and soar togfether immortal : the name of him who founded, the name of him 
who disenthralled, with the name of him who saved the republic." 




AN OLD INDIAN FARM- HOUSE. 



THE STORY OK THE CIVIL WAR. 



^% 




A/^.A." 



IT would be a mistake to suppose 
that secession sentiments originated 
and were exclusively maintained in 
the Southern States. Ideas of State 
sovereignty and of the consequent 
right of a State to withdraw from the 
Union, or at least to resist the acts 
and laws of Congress on adequate 
- occasion, were held by many states- 
^ men in the North as well as in the 
South. Thus the "Essex Junto," 
which had openly advocated a dis- 
solution of the Union and the for- 
mation of an Eastern Confederacy, 
were foremost in assembling a con- 
vention of the Federalists on De- 
cember 15, 1 814, at Hartford, Con- 
necticut, at which resolutions were passed recommending the State Legislatures 
to resist Congress in conscripting soldiers for carrying on the war then- being 
waged against England. Threats of disunion were again heard in 1821, but 
this time from the South, in case Missouri should be denied admission to the 
Union on account of her unwillingnass to surrender the institution of slavery. 
Once more, in 1832, a South Carolina convention proceeded to declare the 
tariff of the United States null and void within her own borders ; but, owing to 
the decisive action of President Jackson, the State authorities did not venture 
into an actual collision with Congress. 

But the agitation in favor of disunion reached culmination under the 
aggressive efforts by the South to extend slavery into new Territories, and 
the determination by the North to confine it strictly within the States where it 
already existed. With the formation of anti-slavery societies in the North, the 

29s 



A SKIRMISHER. 



296 STORY OF THE CIVIL WAR. 

nomination of anti-slavery candidates for the Presidency from 1840 onward, the 
passage of the "Wilmot Proviso" in 1846, the repeal of the Missouri compromise 
in 1854, the Dred-Scott decision by the United States Supreme Court in 1857, the 
adoption of the Lecompton Constitution in Kansas in 1859, and the raid by John 
Brown at Harper's Ferry in 1859, it became painfully evident that Mr. Seward's 
prediction of an "irrepressible conflict" between the North and South on the 
subject of slavery was becoming, had already become, a reality. 

As to John Brown's raid we have only to recount that on the i6th of Octo- 
ber, 1859, he took an armed force to Harper's Ferry, capturing the arsenal and 
armory and killing the men on guard. He was then endeavoring to secure 
arms for operating against the South. He was, however, captured and executed 
December 2, 1859. The e.xpedition, it is unnecessary to say, was foolhardy 
and wholly without justification, and Brown paid for his misguided zeal with 
his life. But it must be said of him that he was conscientious, and that by 
his reckless daring he helped to crystallize sentiment on both sides of the 
slavery question. 

The election in i860 of Abraham Lincoln as President, on the platform of 
resistance to all further extension of slavery, was the signal for the previous 
disunion oratory and menaces to crystallize themselves into action. Seven 
States, in the following order, viz. : South Carolina, Mississippi, Florida, 
Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, and Texas, seceded, and by a Congress held at 
Montgomery, Ala., February 4, 1861, formed a Confederacy with Jefferson Davis, 
of Mississippi, as President, and Alexander H. Stephens, of Georgia, as Vice- 
President. 

The reasons avowed for this perilous course were, " the refusal of fifteen 
of the States for years past to fulfill their constitutional obligations, and the 
election of a man to the high office of President of the United States whose 
opinions and purposes are hostile to slavery." 

After Mr. Lincoln's inauguration on March 4, 1861, the Confederacy was 
increased by the addition of Virginia, Arkansas, North Carolina, and Tennessee ; 
Kentucky and Missouri, being divided in opinion, had representatives and armies 
in both sections. 

The eleven "Confederate States of America" took from the Union nearly 
one-half of its inhabited area, and a population of between five and six millions 
of whites and about four millions of slaves. Their entire force capable of 
active service numbered 600,000 men. The twenty-four States remaining loyal 
to the Union had a population of 20,000,000, and the army at the close of the 
war numbered 1,050,000 ; but as the majority of these were scattered on guard 
duty over a vast region, only 262,000 were in fighting activity. Whilst the North 
was more rich and powerful, it was, nevertheless, more inclined to peace. The 
South was of a military spirit, accustomed to weapons, and altogether eager for 



ADVANTAGES OF THE SOUTH. 



297 



the fray. The soldiers of both sides were 
equally brave, resolute, heroic, and devoted 
to what they respectively deemed a patriotic 
cause. 

The Confederates had the advantage in 
the outset, because Mr. Floyd, the Secretary 
of War under President Buchanan, 
had dispersed the regular army, com- 
prising 16,402 officers and men, to 
distant parts of the country where 
they were not available, and had sent 
off the vessels of the navy to foreign 
stations. 

Many of the old army offi- 
cers had passed over to the 
ate service, and vast quantities 
pons and ammunition had been 
ed from Northern to 
arsenals now in pos- 
the seceded States, 
the army at Indian- 
been surrendered on 




ItPW ft J II ■< I'v I I I k )1 I I /V 
_ SiP',C'r-^i f '■ I ■/-'>-'>' MAifii bio 



ifAi 




'A. 



~^Ve 



THE ARTS OF PEACE AND THE ART OF WAR. 



" Confeder- 

of wea- 

transferr- 

Southern 

session of 

A part of 

ola had 

February 18, 1861, 

by General Twiggs, 

to the Confederates, 

L'^'~^ ■? ^rid other soldiers 

-'QM?''-' ikM\\ can and Indian fron- 
tiers were captured, 
besides several na- 
tional vessels and fortresses. 
The South was, in short, 
much better prepared for the 
great conflict, and during the 
first year the preponderance 
of success was in its favor. 

The Confederates 
opened the war on April 12, 
18G1, by bombarding Fort 
Sumter, which had been 
occupied by Major Robert 
Anderson and a company 
of eighty men. This fort, 



298 STORY OF THE CIVIL WAR. 

although fiercely pounded by cannon balls and shells and set on fire several 
times, was gallantly held for two days, when it was obliged to surrender ; 
but its brave defenders were allowed to march out saluting the old flag, 
and to depart for the North without being regarded as prisoners of war. 
The attack on Sumter created the wildest excitement throughout the entire 
land, and it opened the eyes of the North to the amazing fact of a civil war. 
A wave of patriotism, as mighty as it was sudden, swept over the United 
States. President Lincoln issued a call for 75,000 volunteers for three months, 
and soon after another call for 64,000 men for the army and 18,000 for 
the navy, to serve during the war. The need for these calls was urgent 
enough. On April 20th the Confederates easily captured the great Norfolk 
Navy Yard, with three or four national vessels, including the frigate " Merri- 
mac," which subsequently wrought such fearful havoc at Hampton Road.s, 
2000 cannon, besides small arms, munitions, and stores of immense value, all 
of which were given up without a shot in defense. The arsenal at Harper's 
Ferry, with millions of dollars' worth of arms and ammunition, was also in their 
possession ; and before the end of April 35,000 of their soldiers were already 
in the field, whilst 10,000 of these were rapidly marching northward. General 
R. E. Lee had been appointed Commander-in-chief of the army and navy of 
Virginia, and the 6th Regiment of Massachusetts militia had been savagely 
mobbed in the streets of Baltimore whilst going to the protection of Washington. 

A Unionist attack on the Confederates at Big Bethel, Va., was repulsed, 
but the Confederates were driven out of Western Virginia by General G. B, 
McClellan. Then came, on July 21, the engagement at Bull Run, known also as 
that of Manassas Junction, one of the most significant battles of the war. 
General Irwin McDowell, acting under instructions of General Scott, marched 
against the Confederate army under General Beauregard, and in the outset met 
with encouraging success ; but just as the Unionists imagined the victory theirs 
they were vigorously pressed by reinforcements that had come hurriedly up 
from Winchester under the leadership of General Johnston ; and being ex- 
hausted from twelve hours of marching and fighting under a sultry sun, they 
began a retreat which was soon turned into a panic, attended with wild disordei' 
and demoralization. Had the Confederates, among whom at the close of the 
day was President Davis himself only known the extent of their triumph, they 
might have followed it and possibly have seized Washington. About 30,000 
men fought on each side. The Confederate loss was 378 killed, 1489 wounded, 
and 30 missing. The Unionists lost 481 killed, 101 1 wounded, and 1460 
missing, with 20 cannon and large quantities of small arms. 

From this moment it was understood that the struggle would be terrible, 
and that it might be long, not to say doubtful. Congress, then in extra session, 
authorized the enlistment of 500,000 men and the raising of ^^500,000,000. 



McCLELLAN AS ORGANIZER. 



299 



Many of the States displayed intense patriotism, New York and Pennsylvania, 
for example, appropriating each $3,000,000, whilst Massachusetts and other New 
England States sent regiments fully equipped into the field. General McClellan 
was summoned to reorganize and discipline the multitudes of raw recruits that 
were thrown suddenly on his hands. His ability and thoroughness were of 
immense value in preparing them for their subsequent effective service, and he 
was soon after made Commander-in-chief in place of General Scott, retired. 
The South was also laboring with tremendous zeal and energy in the endeavor 
to enlist 400,000 men. 




FORT MOULTRIE, CHARLESTON, WITH FORT SUMTER IN THE DISTANCE. 

Early in August the death of General Nathaniel Lyon whilst attacking the 
Confederate General Ben. McCulloch at Wilson's Creek, and the retreat of his 
army, threw all Southern Missouri into the hands of the enemy. A few days 
after, General Butler took Forts Hatteras and Clark, with 700 prisoners, 1000 
muskets, and other stores. But victories alternated, for now General Sterling 
Price surrounded and captured the Unionist Colonel Mulligan and his Irish 
brigade of 2780, at Lexington, Mo. Worse, however, than this was the near 
annihilation, October 21st, of a Unionist force of 1700 under General C. P. Stone 
and Colonel E. D. Baker at Ball's Bluff. The noble Baker and 300 of the men 

18 



^oo 



STORY OF THE CIVIL WAR. 



■were slain and over 500 taken prisoners. Ten days later Commodore S. F. 
Dupont, aided by General T. \V. Sherman with 10,000 men, reduced the 
Confederate forts on Hilton Head and Phillips' Island and seized the adjacent 
Sea Islands. General Fremont, unable to find and engage the Confederate 
General Price in the West, was relieved of his command of 30,000 men ; but 
General U. S. Grant, by capturing the Confederate camp at Belmont, Mo., 
checked the advance of General Jeff Thompson. On the next day, November 
8th, occurred a memorable event which imperiled the peaceful relations between 




BATTLE OF PITTSBURG LANDING. 



the United States and Great Britain. Captain Wilkes of the United States 
frigate, "San Jacinto," compelled the British mail steamer, "Trent," to give up two 
of her passengers, the Confederate Commissioners, Mason and Slidell, who were 
on their way respectively to England and France in the interest of the South. 
A foreign war might have resulted had not Mr. William H. Seward, the astute 
Secretary of State, promptly disavowed the act and returned the Commissioners 
to English keeping. General E. O. C. Ord, commanding the Third Pennsylvania 
Brigade, gained a victory on December 20th at Dranesville over the Confederate 



FALL OF FORT DO NELSON. 301 

brigade of General J. E. B. Stuart, who lost 230 soldiers, and during the same 
month General Pope reported the capture of 2500 prisoners in Central Missouri, 
with the loss of only 100 men ; but 1000 of these were taken by Colonel Jeff C. 
Davis by surprising the Confederate camp at Milford. 

The year 1862 was marked by a series of bloody encounters. It opened 
with a Union army of 450,000 against a Confederate army of 350,000. The 
fighting began at Mill Spring, in Southern Kentucky, on January 19th, with an 
assault by the Confederates led by General F. K. Zollicoffer, acting under 
General G. B. Crittenden. They were routed by General George H. Thomas, 
Zollicoffer being killed and Crittenden flying across the Cumberland River, 
leaving ten guns and 1500 horses. This victory stirred the heart of the nation, 
and brought at once into brilliant prominence the great soldier and noble 
character whose ereatnes blazed out like a sun at the close of the war. 

Another blow was soon struck. Brigadier General Grant, with 15,000 
troops, supported by Commodore A. H. Foote with seven gunboats, reduced Fort 
Henry on the Tennessee River and took its commander. General L. Tilghman, 
prisoner, but could not prevent the greater portion of the garrison from 
escaping to Fort Donelson, twelve miles to the east. This stronghold, com- 
manding the navigation of the Cumberland River and containing 15,000 
defenders under General J. B. Floyd, was regarded as impregnable. It fell, 
however, on February i6th, under a combined attack of Grant and Foote, 
surrendering 12,000 men and 40 cannon. Generals Floyd and Buckner, with a 
few of their command, managed to escape across the river by night, and General 
N. B. Forrest, with Soo cavalry, also got away. This splendid achievement 
threw Nashville and all Northern Tennessee into possession of the Unionists, 
and caused the immediate evacuation of the Confederate camp at Bowling 
Green, Kentucky. 

In the East, about the same time. General Burnside and Commodore 
Goldsborough, with 11,500 men on 31 steamboats, captured, with a loss of 300, 
Roanoke Island, N. C, and 2500 Confederates. On March 14th they carried 
New Bern by assault, losing 600 but taking 2 steamboats, 69 cannon, and 500 
prisoners ; and next they seized Fort Macon, with its garrison of 500 and stores. 
But the Unionist Generals Reno and Foster were repulsed, respectively, at 
South Mills and Goldsborough. One of the most notable of naval engagements 
took place on March 8th and 9th, when the Confederate ironclad, " Virginia," 
known better by her original name, the " Merrimac," steamed out from Norfolk 
attended by two gunboats. She plunged her iron ram into the Union frigate, 
"Cumberland," causing her to sink and to carry down part of her crew; she 
blew up the " Congress," another Union frigate, destroying more than half of her 
crew of 434, drove the frigate "Lawrence" under the guns of Fortress Monroe, 
and bombarded until dusk with terrific energy, aided also by her gunboats, the 



302 



STORY OF THE CIVIL WAR. 



Union steam 



frigate 



Minnesota," which had got aground. She seemed 



destined on the next day to work immeasurable and unimpeded havoc. But, 



during 



the 



night 



the Union "Monitor," looking hke "a cheese 



providentiail 

box on a raft," which had been built by Captain Ericsson and was commanded 
with consummate skill by Lieutenant J. L. Worden, steamed into the roadstead 
on her trial trip from New York. When, therefore, the " Merrimac " approached 
for new conquests the following morning her surprise was tremendous upon 
meeting such a strange craft. An unwonted and dramatic naval duel now 




ANTIETAM BRIDGE. 



occurred, from which the Confederate ram retired badly crippled and was soon 
afterward blown up to prevent her being captured. The "Monitor" was, 
unfortunately, lost some months afterward, in a storm off Hatteras. 

The smoke had not vanished from Hampton Roads before news came of 
an assault at Pea Ridge by from 16,000 to 18,000 Confederates, including 5000 
Indians, under General E. Van Dorn, on 10,500 Unionists under General S. R. 
Curtis, supported by Generals Asboth and Sigel. After three days of severe 
fighting, in which 1351 Unionists fell, the Confederates fled with precipitation. 



THE BATTLE OF SHILOH. 303 

leaving Generals B. McCulloch and Mcintosh dead and having Generals Price 
and Slack among their wounded. 

General McClellan having raised his 200,000 or more men to a high degree 
of efficiency, transferred considerably more than half of them to Fortress Monroe 
for the purpose of advancing on Richmond by way of the peninsula between the 
York and James Rivers. He left General Banks with 7000 soldiers to guard 
the Virginia Valley. This force, at that time under the command of General James 
Shields, because Banks had gone temporarily to Washington, was fiercely assailed 
at Kernstown by "Stonewall" Jackson at the head of 4000 men. Jackson 
was repulsed with a loss of 1000, whilst Shields lost 600. McClellan's advance 
was checked for a month by Confederate batteries at Warwick Creek and again 
at Williamsburg by General Magruder's works. Here General Hooker's division 
fought well for nine hours with heavy losses. Magruder, flanked by Hancock, 
whose two brigades fought bravely, was obliged to retreat, leaving 700 of his 
wounded. The Unionists lost altogether 2228, whilst the Confederates lost not 
quite so many. 

In the meantime, on April 6th, General Grant, with an army of 40,000, was 
surprised at Pittsburg Landing by 50,000 Confederates under General A. S. 
Johnson. General Grant, instead of being with his troops, was on a boat near 
Savannah, seven miles below. The Union forces were completely surprised. 
No intrenchments or earthworks of any kind had been erected — there were no 
abattis. The Union forces, surprised, were rapidly driven back with heavy loss in 
guns, killed, wounded, and prisoners, from Shiloh Church to the bluffs of the 
Tennessee, under which thousands of demoralized men took refuge. General 
Albert S. Johnson had been killed in the midst of the battle and General 
Beauregard succeeded to the command. Had General Johnson been alive the 
result might have been different ; but Beauregard was in command, and he 
missed the one opportunity of his life in resting on his arms when he should 
have pressed the enemy to the river and forced a surrender. But relief was at 
hand, and under a leader who was a master general on the field. Sunday 
night General Don Carlos Buell arrived on the scene with a part of the Army 
of the Ohio. Moving General Nelson's division across the Tennessee in boats, 
he had them in position by seven o'clock in the evening, ready for the onset 
in the morning. Two more divisions were crossed early in the morning. At 
seven o'clock the attack was begun. General Buell leading his troops in 
^person and General Grant advancing with his troops, yesterday overwhelmed 
by defeat, to-day hopeful and confident. The result is well known. Buell's 
fresh troops, handled in a masterly manner, were irresistible. By four o'clock 
the enemy lost all they had gained and were in full retreat, and the day 
was won. General Buell receiving unstinted praise for his victory. The 
Union loss was 1735 killed, 7882 wounded, and 3956 missing; total, 13,573. 



304 STORY OF THE CIVIL WAR. 

The Confederates' loss was 172S killed, 8012 wounded, 957 missing; total, 
10,699. 

About the same date General Pope and Commodore Foote captured Island 
No. 10, with 6700 Confederates under Brigadier General Makall ; and soon after 
Memphis surrendered to the Unionists, and on April nth Fort Pulaski fell 
before a bombardment by General Q. A. Gilmore. This same month was notable 
for naval victories. Admiral Farragut with a fleet of forty-seven armed vessels 
and 310 guns stormed the Confederate Forts St. Philip and Jackson, destroyed 
various fire-rafts and gunboats, and after a series of brilliant actions compelled 
the Confederate General Lovell with 3000 defenders to withdraw from New 
Orleans, leaving it to be occupied by 15,000 Unionists under General Butler, 
In the words of another, this "was a contest between iron hearts in wooden 
vessels, and iron clads with iron beaks, and the iron hearts prevailed." 

McClellan's army — a part of which had been thrown across the Chicka- 
hominy — was savagely attacked on May 28th, at Fair Oaks, by General Joseph 
E. Johnston, now Commander-in-chief of the Confederate forces. Although 
Johnston was badly wounded and his troops after a day of hard fighting were 
obliged to retire, yet the Union loss was 5739, including five colonels killed and 
seven generals wounded. McClellan was now reinforced until he had altogether 
1 56,828 men, of whom 115,162 were in good condition for effective service. Noth- 
ing, however, was accomplished until General Lee, who had succeeded the dis- 
abled Johnston, forced the fighting on June 26th that led to six horrible battles on 
as many successive days, known as those of Oak Grove, Mechanicsville, Gaines's 
Mills, Savage Station, White Oak Swamp, and Malvern Hill. In the last one 
the Confederates were signally defeated by McClellan with a loss of 10,000, 
while the Union loss was about 5000. During those six battles the Union loss 
was 1582 killed, 7709 wounded, and 5958 missing, making a total of 15,249. 
The Confederate loss was perhaps double ; General Griffith and three colonels 
killed. Nevertheless, McClellan's campaign was unsuccessful ; Richmond was 
not taken ; and by order of the President he retreated to the Potomac. 

General Halleck now became Commander-in-chief, and a vigorous campaign 
was opened by the Unionist General Pope. He was met in several stubbornly 
fought actions by the Confederates under Generals Lee, Jackson, and Long- 
street, and was badly routed. * In this bloody affair, known as the second battle 
of Bull Run, the Unionists lost 25,000, including 9000 prisoners ; the Con- 

*In accounting for his defeat General Pope attempted to fix the blame upon General Fitz John 
Porter, a very able and successful commander, charging that he failed to support him, and a court- 
martial convened in the heat of the discussion cashiered the General. But later, in deference to public 
opinion, the case was reopened, the previous unjust verdict was set aside, and General Porter's good 
name was cleared, his conduct being fully justified — an acquittal in entire accord with the riper 
second thought of public opinion. 



LEE. 



30s 



federates lost 15,000. General Lee, on September 8th, invaded Maryland, 
where at South Mountain he was worsted by McClellan, who lost heavily of his 
own men, but took 1 500 prisoners. 

A few days later Harper's Ferry; with 11,583 Unionists, ^-x, guns, and 
immense quantities of war munitions, was surrendered to Stonewall Jackson. 
McClellan, with 
80,000 men at- 
tacked Lee, posted 
with 70,000 on a 
ridge facing Antie- 
tam Creek. This 
determined battle 
ended in Lee's de- 
feat and retreat. 
McClellan lost 
2010 men killed, 
941 6 wounded, and 
1043 missing ; a 
total of 12,469. Lee 
lost 1842 killed, 
9399 wounded, and 
2292 missing; to- 
tal, 13-533- This 
is regarded as the 
bloodiest day in the 
history of America. 
There is little 
doubt that had Mc- 
Clellan followed 
up his magnificent 
victory he could 
have entered Rich- 
mond. Here was 
his mistake ; but 
this did not justify 
the Government in 

retiring him as it did. Surely McClellan's great victory entitled him to the 
further command ; but the opposition, especially that of Secretary Stanton, was 
too powerful, and he was retired. 

General Burnside, having succeeded McClellan, assailed Lee at Fredericks- 
burg, December 13th, but was disastrously beaten. His loss was 1152 killed. 




GENERAL ROBERT EDMUND LEE. 



3o6 STORY OF THE CIVIL WAR. 

9101 wounded, 3234 missing ; total, 13,771. The Confederate loss was about 
5000. General Burnside was relieved in favor of General Hooker in January, 
1863, who — having received reinforcements until his army amounted to loo.cxx) 
infantr)^ 13,000 cavalr)^ and 10,000 artillery — assumed the offensive against Lee 
on May 2d, 1863, at Chancellorsville, but was terribly defeated. He lost 17,197 
men. His defeat was due to a brilliant rear and flank movement executed by 
Stonewall Jackson, who thus demolished the Eleventh Corps but was himself 
slain. Jackson's death might well be regarded as an irreparable disaster to the 
Confederate cause. 

Lee, with nearly 100,000 men, again marched northward, taking 4000 
prisoners at Winchester. He was overtaken, July ist, by the Union army, 
numbering 100,000, now under the command of General George G. Meade, at 
Gettysburg ; where a gallant and bloody battle was fought, lasting three days 
and ending in a great victory for the Unionists. One of the features of the 
battle was a gallant charge of Pickett's Confederate Brigade, when they faced a 
battery of 100 guns and were nearly annihilated. But it was all American 
bravery. They lost 2834 killed, 13,709 wounded, 6643 missing; total, 23,186. 
The total Confederate loss was 36,000. Had Meade known the extent of his 
triumph he might have followed and destroyed the retreating Lee, whose army 
in this campaign dwindled from 100,000 to 40,000. 

On the same memorable day, July 3d, Vicksburg, after having resisted 
many and determined assaults, and after finding its defenders on the south 
surprised and beaten in detail by Grant's army aided by Commodore Porter's 
naval operations, surrendered, closing a campaign in which Grant had taken 
37,000 prisoners, with arms and munitions for 60,000 men. His own loss was 
943 killed, 7095 wounded, and 537 missing; a total of 8515. These two 
notable victories were the turning points in the war. 

Meantime, in the West the war had been pursued during the year with 
varying fortunes. The Confederate General Forrest had captured 1 500 men 
at Murfreesboro, Tenn.; Kirby Smith had captured 5000 Unionists at Richmond, 
Ky. ; General Bragg had captured 4000 prisoners at Mumfordsville, Tenn. ; 
Generals McCook and Rousseau, having attacked the enemy without the orders 
of General Buell, and thinking, as General Buell said, to win a victory without 
his assistance, were defeated by General Bragg at Perryville, whose loss was 
2300 : our loss was 4340. General Rosecrans, with a loss of 782, whipped the 
Confederate General Price, at luka. Miss., w'hose loss was 1000 men. Rose- 
crans repulsed again the Confederates on September 17th at Corinth, inflicting 
a loss of 1423 killed and taking 2248 prisoners. His own loss was 2359 men. 
A brigade of 2000 Unionists was captured by John Morgan. A campaign of 
46,910 men under Rosecrans culminated in the batde of Stone River, January 
2d, 1863, against Bragg, who was beaten and forced to retreat. The Unionist 



CHICKAMAUGA AND LOOKOUT MOUNTAIN. 307 

losses were 1533 killed, 7245 wounded, 2800 missing; a total of 11,578. 
Bragg's loss was 9000 killed and wounded and over 1000 missing. The Con- 
federate Van Dorn surprised and took prisoners 2000 men at Holly Springs, 
and at the same time took ^4,000,000 worth of stores. General Sherman was 
repulsed at Chickasaw Bayou with a loss of 2000 men ; but General J. A. Mc- 
Clernand reduced Fort Hindman, capturing 5000 prisoners.' and 17 guns, while 
his loss was only 977. Colonel Grierson made a famous raid with 1700 cavalry 
to Baton Rouge, cutting Confederate communications and taking 500 prisoners. 
At Milliken's Bend the Unionist General Dennis, having 1400, repelled an 
attack of the Confederate General H. McCulloch, the loss on either side being- 
500. At Helena, Arkansas, the Unionist General B. M. Prentiss, with 4000, 
also repulsed General Holmes with 3646, of whom 1636 were lost. The Con- 
federate raider, Morgan, with a mounted force of 4000 men, invaded Ohio, 
July 7th, but was caught by gunboats and obliged to surrender. 

General Burnside, early in September, at Cumberland Gap, captured General 
Frazier with fourteen guns and 2000 men. Then came, on September 19th, the 
great battle of Chickamauga, between Rosecrans and Thomas with 55,000 men 
on one side, and Bragg and Longstreet with about the same number on the other 
side. Longstreet annihilated Rosecrans' right wing ; but Thomas by his firmness 
and skill saved the clay. The Confederates lost 18,000, while the Union loss was 
1644 killed, 9262 wounded, 4945 missing ; total, 15,581. Our army fell back on 
Chattanooga. Longstreet's attempt, Nov. 28th, to dislodge Burnside from Knox- 
ville resulted in his own loss of 800 and retreat. The Unionists lost 100 men. 

On September 2 2d to 24th the forces of General George H. Thomas, rein- 
forced by General Sherman, under the command of Grant, assaulted Bragg's 
army on Mission Ridge, facing Chattanooga. General Sherman crossed the 
Tennessee to attempt a flank movement but was repulsed. General Hooker 
moved up Lookout Mountain and drove the Confederates before him, capturing 
men and guns. Then General G. H. Thomas, in accordance with his original 
plan of battle, moved his army by the front directly up the heights of Mission 
Ridge, assailing the enemy in the very teeth of his batteries. The fight was 
desperate, but Thomas's forces won, driving the enemy, making many prisoners 
and capturing many guns. The Union losses were 757 killed, 4529 wounded, 
330 missing ; total, 5616. There were 6142 prisoners captured from the enemy. 

During this time Charleston, which had inaugurated the Rebellion, pluckily 
resisted all attempts to take it. For example, her defenders beat back 6000 
Unionists with a loss of 574 men at Secessionvllle June i6th. Again, they dis- 
abled two of the blockading gunboats on January ist, 1863 ; again, they forced 
nine bombarding iron-clads under Commodore Dupont to retire ; again, they 
repulsed from Fort Wagner a storming party under General Gilmore, inflicting 
a loss of 1500, while their loss was but 100 men ; again, while obliged to evacuate 



3o8 



STORY OF THE CIVIL IVAR. 



Fort Wagner, leaving 1 8 guns there, and 
seven guns in Battery Gregg, they re- 
pulsed the Unionists' attempt to scale 
Fort Sumter and slew 200 men. 

Nor did the Unionists fare better 
in Florida. They lost under 
General T. Seymour 2000 of 
his 6000 troops at Olustee, 
where the Confederates lost 
but 730 men. The Unionists 
aeain lost 
1600 out of S'' , :' 
2000 men " 




under Gen. - 




RETREAT OF LEE'S ARMY. 



Wessels at 

Plymouth, 

North Caro- 

^t-^=> Una, when 

the Confed- 
erate General Hoke's loss 
was but 300 men. 

In the Southwest, 
however, the Unionists* 
cause had gained con- 
siderable advantages un- 
der General Banks, having 
a command of 30,000 men. 
Aided by Commodore 
Farragut, at Alexandria, 
La., he drove General R. 
Taylor and captured 2000 
prisoners, several steam- 
boats, and 22 guns. His 
assault, however, on Port 
Hudson, in June, was re- 
pelled with a loss of 2000 



GRANT MADE COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF. 309 

men, while the Confederates lost but 300 men. But Port Hudson, as it was about 
to be cannonaded by the gunboats set free by the fall of Vicksburg, was surren- 
dered, July 6th, by the Confederate General Gardener, with his garrison of 640S 
men. Banks' effective force had been reduced to 10,000. His total captures 
during the campaign were 10,584 men, "]}, guns, and 6000 small arms. But 
Brashear City had some days before been surprised and captured by General R. 
Taylor (Confederate) with a Union loss of 1000 men and 10 guns. The Unionist 
General Dudley lost near DonaldsonviHe 300 prisoners, and again, the Unionist 
General Franklin with a fleet and 4000 men was repelled with a loss of two gun- 
boats, 15 guns, and 250 men, by less than that number within the fort at Sabine 
Pass, and at Teche Bayou the 67th Indiana Regiment was captured entire. 

The Red River expeditions in March and April, 1864, toward Shreveport 
under General Banks, from New Orleans, with a force of 40,000, and under 
General Steel, from Little Rock, with 12,000, were disastrous failures. The 
former had to retreat with a loss of about 5000, and the latter was also beaten 
back with a loss of 2200; but at Jenkins Ferry he repulsed the Confederate 
attack led by General Kirby Smith, with a loss of 2300. In August of this year 
(1864) Commodore Farragut executed one of the fiercest and most heroic 
naval combats on record. Having lashed himself to the mast of the Hartford, he 
advanced with a fleet of 1 4 wooden steamers and gunboats and four iron-clad 
monitors against Forts Morgan and Gaines, at the entrance of Mobile Bay. 
He ran the bows of his wooden vessels full speed against the rebel iron-clad 
Tennessee, gaining a notable victory, which ended in the fall of the forts and 
the city of Mobile. 

General Grant was appointed Commander-in-chief of all the Union armies 
on March i, 1864. Having sent Sherman to conduct a campaign in the West, he 
himself, on May 4 and 5, crossed the Rapidan for a direct southerly advance to 
Richmond. A campaign of 43 days followed, in which more than 100,000 men, 
frequently reinforced, were engaged on either side. He was met by Lee in the 
Wilderness, where, after two days of terrible slaughter, the battle ended without 
decided advantage to either side. Among the Unionists, General J. S. Wads- 
worth was killed and seven generals were wounded, the entire loss amount- 
ing to 20,000 men. The Confederates lost 8000 men, with Longstreet badly 
wounded. 

Finding Lee's position impregnable, Grant advanced by a flank movement 
to Spottsylvania Court House. Here, on May nth, Hancock, by a desperate 
assault, captured Generals Johnson and E. H. Stewart, with 3000 men and 
30 guns, while Lee himself barely escaped. But no fighting, however desperate, 
could carry Lee's works. Sheridan with his cavalry now made a dashing raid 
toward Richmond. He fought the Confederate cavalry, killed their General, 
J. E. B. Stuart, and returned, having suffered little damage, to Grant. General 



3IO 



STORY OF THE CIVIL WAR. 



Butler with 30,000 men steamed up the James River and seized City Point, with 
the view of seizing Petersburg. He was, however, too slow, and in a fight with 
Beauregard, near Proctor's Creek, lost 4000 men, while the Confederates lost 

but 3000. 

General Grant reached. May 1 7th. the North Anna, where he gained some 
advantage, but as Lee was strongly intrenched, he moved on again to Cold 
Harbor. Here an assault on Lee ended with a Union loss of 1705 killed, 9072 
wounded and 2406 missing. Sheridan again raided Lee's rear, tore up rail- 
roads, and burnt stores, and after having lost 735 men he returned to Grant with 
370 prisoners. Grant now pressed on toward the James River ; assaults were 




ENTRANCE TO GETTYSBURG CEMETERY. 



made on Petersburg with a loss of many killed and 5000 prisoners. The 
Unionist General Wilson, with 8000 cavalry, while tearing up the Danville 
railroad, lost 1000 prisoners. 

Another attempt to take Petersburg by a mine explosion resulted in a 
Unionist loss of 4400 and Confederate loss of 1000. A series of gallant 
attacks by the Unionists were as gallandy repulsed. Thus Hancock assailed 
Lee's left wing below Richmond, losing 5000 men. Warren seized the Weldon 
Railroad, at the expense of 4450, while the Confederates lost but 1 200. Han- 
cock's attempt to seize Ream's Station ended in his being driven back and 



WINCHESTER AND ATLANTA. 311 

losing 2400 men. Warren grasped the Squirrel Level Road at a cost of 2500 
men. Butler, however, took Port Harrison, with 115 guns, but failed to take 
Fort Gilmore after a loss of 300. The Confederates, attempting to retake Fort 
Harrison, were beaten back with a heavy loss. The Union cavalry under Gen- 
eral Kautz advanced within five miles of Richmond, but were driven back with. 
a loss of 9 guns and 500 men. Hancock tried to turn the Confederate flank 
and took 1000 prisoners,, but had to retire with a loss of 1500. 

Thus this campaign of 1864 closed with a loss in the aggregate of 87,387 
men from the Army of the Potomac. 

In West Virginia Sigel was routed at New Market by J. C. Breckinridge 
with a loss of six guns and 700 men. Hunter, succeeding Sigel, beat the Con- 
federates; June 8th, at Piedmont, killing General Jones and taking 1500 men, but 
was himself, with 20,000 men, soon after beaten at Lynchburg, and forced to a 
disastrous retreat over the Alleghanies to the Potomac. 

This opened the way for the Confederate, Early, with 20,000 veterans, to 
march northward. With a loss of but 600 he defeated General Lew Wallace 
near Frederick, killing and capturing 2000 men. After threatening Baltimore 
and Washington he retreated South with 2500 captured horses and 5000 cattle. 
He also defeated at Winchester General Crook, whose loss was 1 200. Shortly 
after the Unionist General Averill defeated B. F. Johnson's cavalry and took 
500 prisoners. 

Not long after, on September 19, 1864, Early, after a brilliant attack by 
Sheridan at Winchester, was routed, losing 6000 men, while the Unionists lost 
1000 less. At Fisher's Hill Sheridan again routed him, taking 16 guns and 
1 lOO prisoners ; at Cedar Creek, while Sheridan was absent at Washington, 
Early made a sudden and determined assault, throwing the Unionists into a panic- 
stricken mob, capturing 24 guns and 1200 prisoners. Sheridan, by his famous 
ride of twenty miles, met his beaten army. He reorganized it, inspired it to 
make a general and magnificent attack, and won a great victory, recapturing 
his 24 guns, taking 23 more, and 1500 prisoners. The loss on either side 
was about 3000. 

In the Southwest General Sturgis (Union) with 12,000 men routed General 
Forrest at Guntown, Miss., killing and capturing 4000. In East Tennessee 
the Confederate raider Morgan captured 1600 Unionists at Licking River, but 
was himself soon after chased away with a loss of half his force. During these 
operations General Sherman advanced (May 18, 1864) with 100,000 men from 
Chattanooga. He was stubbornly resisted by General J. E. Johnston with an 
army of 54,000. At Kenesaw Mountain Sherman lost 3000 men while the 
Confederates lost 442. He, however, kept flanking and fighting the Confed- 
erates until he reached Atlanta, during which two months the enemy had lost 
14,200 men; but reinforcements kept their numbers up to 51,000. During 



312 



STORY OF THE CIVIL WAR. 



these movements the Confederate General Polk, who on accepting his commis- 
sion in the army had not resigned his position as a Bishop of the Protestant 
Episcopal Church, was killed by a cannon ball while reconnoitring on Pine 
Mountain, a few miles north of Marietta. Hood succeeded Johnston, and 
aimed a heavy blow at Thomas, on Sherman's right, losing 4000 and inflicting 




LONGSTREEI KEI'UKilNG AT liKAGU's HEADQUARTERS. 

a loss of but 1500. On the 2 2d occurred another great battle in which 
McPherson, a very superior Union general, was killed, and 4000 Unionists 
were lost. The Confederate loss was, however, not less than 8000. General 
Stoneman whilst raiding Hood's rear was captured, with 1000 of his cavalry. 
Hood, after suffering a heavy repulse by Logan, and another at Jonesboro 
by Howard, in the latter of which he lost 2000, and still another by J. C. 



SHERMAN'S FAMOUS MARCH. 313 

Davis, when Jonesboro and many guns and prisoners were taken from 
him, retreated eastward, leaving Atlanta, September ist, to the Union victors. 
Being reinforced, however, so as to have about 55,000 troops, he returned for 
an invasion of Tennessee. At Franklin, November 30th, he made a desperate 
onset against Schofield, and was baffled, at an expense of 4500 men to himself 
and of 2320 to the Union. At Nashville, to which he laid siege, he was struck 
by Thomas, December 1 5th, with great skill and determination during a two 
days' battle, and broken to pieces, having lost more than 13,000, besides seventy- 
two pieces of artillery. The Union loss was 10,000 during the campaign. In 
November and December Sherman at the head of 65,500, including the cavalry 
protection of Kilpatrick, executed his famous march to the sea, i.e., from Atlanta 
to Savannah. His reward was 167 guns and 1328 prisoners and a demoralized 
South. The Confederate General Hardee, who had already evacuated Savan- 
nah, was obliged by a new advance of Sherman northward, February, 1865, 
to evacuate Charleston also, with 12,000 men. A cavalry engagement took 
place near the north line of South Carolina, between Kilpatrick and Wade 
Hampton, in which the former was surprised, but the latter finally beat him. 
Near Fayetteville, North Carolina, March 15th, he was attacked without success 
by Hardee, now acting under Joseph Johnston, having 40,000 men under his 
command ; and three days after at Bentonville by Johnston himself Sherman 
lost 1643, but forced Johnston to retire, leaving 267 dead and 1625 prisoners 
and wounded. 

Fort Fisher, that protected the blockade runners at Wilmington, N. C, was 
bombarded by Commodore Porter and carried by assault by General A. H. 
Terry, January 16, 1865. This victory, purchased at a cost of 410 killed and 
536 wounded, threw into the Union hands 169 guns and 2083 prisoners. And 
Wilmington itself fell about one month later, under an attack by Schofield. 

General James H. Wilson, with 15,000 cavalry from the armies of Grant 
and Thomas, routed General Forrest at Selma, Ala., April 2d, capturing 22 
guns and 2700 prisoners and burning 125,000 bales of cotton. Soon after, he 
captured at Columbus, Ga., 52 guns and 1200 prisoners, besides burning a 
gunboat, 250 cars, and 115,000 cotton bales. He took Fort Tyler by assault, 
but ceased operations at Macon, Ga., because by that time the rebellion was 
crushed. 

General Grant resumed operations February 6, 1865, when he repulsed at 
Hatcher's Run, at a cost of 2000 troops, the Confederates, who lost 1000. 
General Sheridan with 10,000 cavalr)^ routed Early, on March 2d, from Waynes- 
boro, taking 11 guns and 1600 prisoners, and joined Grant at Petersburg after 
having passed entirely around Lee's army. An attack by Lee against Fort 
Stedman was repelled with a loss of 2500 to the Unionists and 4500 to the 
Confederates. 



314 STORY OF THE CIVIL WAR. 

Grant, fearing that Lee might attempt to evacuate Richmond, threw 
Warren's corps and Sheridan's cavalry to the southwest of Petersburg. 
Warren, after having his divisions broken by Lee but re-formed by the aid of 
Griffin, united with Sheridan, who had been foiled the day before, April ist, at 
Five Forks. Warren and Sheridan now charged the Confederates' works, 
which were taken, along with 5000 prisoners. A general assault was made by 
the Union army at daylight, April 2d, when Ord's Corps (Union) carried Forts 
Gregg and Alexander by storm. A. P. Hill, a brilliant Confederate general, 
was shot dead. That night Lee evacuated Richmond, burning his warehouses 
filled with stores. General Weitzel, at 6 a.m. April 3d, entered the city with 
his men and was soon followed by President Lincoln. Petersburg was at the 
same time abandoned. Lee halted his army, now dwindled to 35,000 men, at 
Amelia Court House. Grant rapidly pursued. Ewell was severed from Lee's 
rear and became one among 6000 prisoners. Lee heroically pushed on to 
Appomatto.x Court House, where his flight was intercepted by Sherman marching 
from the South. Lee was inclined to renew the fighting against Sherman, but 
his weary and famished army stood no chance against the fearful odds around 
them. And Lee, to prevent further useless bloodshed, surrendered his army to 
Grant on April 9, 1865, within three days of four years after the rebellion had 
been opened by the bombardment of Fort Sumter. Bell ringing, triumphant 
salutes, and boundless joy throughout the United States hailed this event as the 
close of the war. Johnston surrendered his army to Sherman at Raleigh, N. C, 
April 26th, and Dick Taylor his, to Canby at Citronville, Ala., May 4th. The 
terms of the surrender were magnanimous : " Each officer and man was allowed 
to return to his home, not to be disturbed by the United States authority so 
long as they observed their paroles and the laws in force where they may 
reside." 

Jefferson Davis, the president of the now destroyed Confederacy, fled from 
Richmond at the time of its evacuation. Attended at first with a cavalry escort 
of 2000, which soon dwindled mostly away, he was making his way toward the 
coast, with his family and "a few faithful followers " when he was captured near 
Irwinsville, Georgia. After an imprisonment of two years in Fortress Monroe, 
he was released, and allowed to live without molestation, mourning the lost 
cause, until he died, December 6, 1889. 



WILLIAM T. SHERMAN, 

THE HERO OK THE " NIARCH TO THE SEA." 




F ALL the events of the four long years between 1861 
and 1865, none is more memorable than the famous 
march of the Union army through Georgia, in the 
autumn of 1864. Although a generation has passed 
away since then, black children who never knew 
slavery and white children who never knew war still 
join in singing the familiar lines of the old chorus : — 

" Hurrah ! hurrah ! we bring the jubilee ! 
'' Hurrah ! hurrah ! the flag that makes you free ! 

• ; So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea. 

When we were marching thro' Georgia." 

And next to the great captain to whom Lee surrendered at Appomattox, 
the nation holds in grateful remembrance the name and deeds of William 
Tecumseh Sherman. 

Sherman came of a New England family. His father, Charles R. Sherman, 
moved from Connecticut to Ohio early in this century, and was appointed judge 
of the Supreme Court of the latter State. In 1829 Judge Sherman died, leaving 
his widow with eleven children and an income of two hundred and fifty dollars. 
It was clearly impossible for her to maintain them all. Judge Sherman had 
many warm friends, among whom was Thomas Ewing, United States Senator, 
who offered to adopt one of the boys into his own family. "Which one shall I 
take? " he asked, when the time came to decide ; '• I want the best of the lot, 
of course." "Take Cump, Mr. Ewing," said an elder sister, promptly; "take 
Cump, — he's the smartest." So the Senator took " Cump," who from that time 
had his place in Mr. Ewing's home, among his own sons and daughters. As 
the boy grew into manhood, a warm and romantic attachment sprang up be- 
tween him and Senator Ewing's daughter Ellen, and his lively and graphic 
letters to her while absent at school and in the army show most delightfully the 
development of his character. 

When Sherman was sixteen. Senator Ewing secured for him an appoint 
ment to West Point Military Academy. He had then no wish to be a soldier, 
19 317 



3i8 WILLIAM T. SHERMAN. 

but he did have an intense desire for a good education, and this was an oppor- 
tunity not to be lost. He was a close and diligent student, and made good pro- 
gress in his studies ; but he took no particular interest in military matters, and 
gave no promise of his future brilliant achievements in war, other than is found 
in general intelligence, ability, and sound judgment. He graduated in 1840, 
and was commissioned second lieutenant of artillery. He was sent first to 
Florida, whence the remnants of the Seminole Indians were being removed 
west to the Indian Territory, a policy which the independent young officer 
thought a mistake, and said so in his letters. Then he was transferred to Fort 
Moultrie, in Charleston harbor, where he passed four dull years, drilling and 
parading, fishing and hunting, and studying Southern character in the society of 
Charleston, where he was always welcome. After the Mexican war, he was 
sent to California, and in 1S50 he returned East and married the sweetheart of 
his boyhood, Ellen Boyle Ewing.. at her father's house in Washington. The 
wedding was a brilliant occasion. President Taylor and his cabinet were pres- 
ent, with Senators Clay, Webster, Benton, and other distinguished persons. It 
was a time of great excitement over the slavery question. Many expected to 
see then the war which came eleven years later, but which was deferred by 
Clay's famous compromise of 1850. 

From his marriage until the civil war Sherman had a varied experience. 
His career during that time is quite similar to that of his friend Grant, espe- 
cially in the fact that it was not successful. He was stationed for a time in St. 
Louis, and then at New Orleans. In 1853 he resigned his commission in the 
army, and in company with a friend went to California, where, with money 
furnished by a St. Louis capitalist, they started a bank. For five years this 
business furnished a living and an interesting experience in a new country, then 
" booming " after the discovery of gold ; but after the financial troubles of 1857 
the St. Louis capitalist decided to close up the bank, and Sherman returned to 
Ohio, without occupation. For a time he was in Kansas, where two brothers- 
in-law were settled, and where he made an unsuccessful effort to get into prac- 
tice as a lawyer. Then he turned his face again to the South. At this time the 
State of Louisiana was establishing at New Orleans a " Seminary of Learning 
and Military Academy," for the purpose of educating young men in military 
tactics. Sherman was well and favorably known there, and so it came about 
that he was chosen superintendent of the institution. He accepted the position 
and filled it until January, 1861. He might have remained longer, but war was 
impending, the Southern .States were seceding, and he must at once choose 
under which flag he would serve. Every effort was made to win him for the 
South. But there was not a moment's hesitation on his part. "If Louisiana 
withdraws from the Federal Union," he wrote to the governor, " I prefer to 
maintain my allegiance to the old Constitution as long as a fragment of it sur- 



SHILOH AND VICKSBURG. 319 

vives. I beg you to take immediate steps to relieve me as superintendent the 
moment the State determines to secede ; for on no eartlily account will I do any 
act or think any thought hostile to or in defiance of the old government of the 
United States." So he left New Orleans and went to St. Louis, where he 
became president of a street railroad company. 

OUTBREAK OF THE WAR. 

At the inauguration of President Lincoln, Sherman visited the White House 
with his brother John, who was then just taking his seat in the Senate. The 
soldier was strongly impressed with the gravity of the situation, and urged his 
views on the President, who replied, lightly, " Oh ! I guess we shall get along 
without you fellows," meaning that he was still hopeful that there would be no 
war. Sherman went back to St. Louis in great disgust, which he expressed in a 
wrathful letter to his brother. But when Sumter was fired upon, soldiers sud- 
denly came to be in great demand, and Sherman was recalled to Washington. 
When the President's call for seventy-five thousand men for three months was 
issued, Sherman declared the number utterly inadequate. He refused to go to 
Ohio to enlist troops for three months. " You might as well try to put out the 
flames of a burning house with a squirt-gun," he said. In June, 1861, he was 
commissioned as colonel in the regular army, and put in command of a fort. He 
commanded a brigade at the battle of Bull Run, and did all that one man could 
to save the day on that disastrous field. Soon afterward he was assigned to duty 
in the Southwest, and thenceforward was Grant's most trusted lieutenant. At 
■the dreadful battle of Shiloh he saved the army from destruction. Grant said : 
"To his individual efforts I am indebted for the success of this battle;" and 
Halleck in his despatch bore this testimony: "It is the unanimous opinion here 
that Brigadier General W. T. Sherman saved the fortunes of the day on the 6th 
of April." The next day, when Buell's fresh battalions took the field, Sherman 
again led his battered regiments into the fig-ht, and enacted over aeain the 
heroic deeds of the day before. Rousseau said, " He fights by the week." 
Untiring to the last, he pushed out after the victory and beat the enemy's cav- 
alry, capturing a large supply of ammunition. 

During the long campaign in the Southwest, Sherman was one of the 
brilliant group of commanders who, under Grant, captured Vicksburg, opened 
the Mississippi, and "drove a wedge through the Confederacy" eastward to 
Chattanooga. Then Grant was made general-in-chief of all the armies, and 
called away to direct the movements of the forces around Richmond, and Sher- 
man was promoted to the command of the Military Division of the Mississippi, 
which included all the armies from the great river to the AUeghanies. From 
Chattanooga he fought his way, inch by inch, into Northern Georgia, and in 
August, 1864, laid siege to Atlanta. 



320 



WILLIAM T. SHERMAN. 



The summer and early autumn of 1864 were days of despondency and 
gloom. The awful batdes in Virginia, where Grant was keeping up steadily 
that dreadful " hammering " which alone could reduce the Confederacy, had 
brought grief to the whole country ; 
and the declaration of the 
Chicago Convention that ^ 



' the war 
found re- 



failure" ^ 




sponse even 
among those 
who had hith- 
erto stood firm. Greater exer- 
tions and greater sacrifices than 
ever had been made, and so far 
apparently without result. 

The first Meam of light in 
the gloom was Sherman's capture of 
Atlanta, on September ist, which was 
accomplished after a difficult and danger- 
ous campaign. His army had entered 
Georgia at the Tennessee boundary, and every mile of his progress took him 
farther from his base of supplies. He was met at every step by the veterans 






BATTLE OF KKNF.SAW MOUNTAIN — DEATH OF 
GENERAL rOLK. 



THE GEORGIA CAMPAIGN. 321 

of Johnston's army, whose commander was one of the ablest generals in the 
Confederate service. It was a hazardous game ; but at a critical point Jeffer 
son Davis gave him most important aid. Just on the eve of the battle of 
Atlanta Davis relieved Johnston, and in his place put the more dashing and 
reckless Hood. " It isn't a good plan," President Lincoln used to say, " to 
swap horses in the middle of a creek ; " and Davis's action proved the truth 
of Lincoln's saying. Hood strove to carry out Johnston's plans, but without 
success. Figfhtine and tlankina-, Sherman drove Hood into Atlanta, and cut 
off all his sources of supply. There was nothing left but to abandon the city, 
which he did, burning great quantities of cotton and stores, and on September 
I St Sherman entered and took possession. 

Aeain the North was wild with delio^ht. A salute of one hundred guns was 
fired in Sherman's honor at all the chief military posts. He was the hero of the 
hour. He had won the first great success of 1864. That success turned the 
tide of public feeling, and assured the re-election of Lincoln and the prosecution 
of the war. But greater things were still to come. 

Georgia was the great centre and source of supply of the Confederacy, — 
" the workshop and corn-crib of the South." If Sherman could make his way 
through Georgia to the sea, it would undermine and honeycomb the rebellion 
in the seat of its strength. He determined to march from Atlanta straight 
upon Savannah, nearly three hundred miles distant. Leaving Thomas with a 
strong force in Atlanta, he abandoned his base of supplies, cut his connections 
with the North, and started on his march to the sea. 

"MARCHING THROUGH GEORGIA." 

The great leader knew what he was about ; but no one else did. Friends 
and foes, North and South, alike were ignorant of his plans. Had the Confed- 
erate generals known whither he was marching, they could have concentrated 
against him ; not knowing, they scattered their forces at different points, thus 
putting no formidable obstacle in his way. Hood started for Nashville, hoping 
to draw Sherman after him into the mountains of Tennessee. This suited ^Sher- 
man exactly. " If Hood will go to Tennessee," he said, with a chuckle, " I will 
furnish him with rations for the trip." The idea of Sherman actually cutting 
loose from his base of supplies, and marching hundreds of miles through the 
heart of an enemy's country, was so bold that it did not occur to the Confeder- 
ate generals as possible ; and so, instead of meeting their armies, Sherman left 
all serious opposition behind him. 

For a month Sherman and his army disappeared from view, like a swimmer 
who dives under the surface of the water. No one knew where he would re- 
appear. When President Lincoln was appealed to, he said, " I know which hole 
he went in at, but I don't know which hole he will come out at." He felt the 



322 



WILLIAM T. SHERMAN. 



utmost confidence in Sherman ; but there was intense anxiety in the North 
about his fate. It was feared that he had walked into a trap, and that his army 
had been annihilated. 

In the meantime Sherman was "marching through Georgia." His army, 
stretched out in a great line thirty 
miles from wing to wing, swept an 
immense path through the heart of j'" 
the State. There was almost no re- 
sistance ; his troops had 
left behind the armies k' 




THE "SWAMP ANGEL" BATTERY BOMBARDING 
CHARLESTON. 



that had opposed them before Atlanta, 
and their march was like a holiday 
parade rather than serious war. Their source of supplies was the country 
through which they passed ; and it was the business of the hour to make it 
incapable of furnishing further supplies for the Confederate armies. To the 
slaves the approach of the soldiers was the " day of jubilee ;" and thousands 



TRIUMPH AT SAVANNAH. 



323 



of them followed the army on its progress. Railroads were destroyed and 
bridges burned as the army moved forward. At Macon, the capital of the 
State, the soldiers took possession of the deserted halls of legislature, and 
General Sherman slept on the floor of the Governor's mansion. At last, a 
month after leaving Atlanta, the army reached Fort iVlcAllister, at the mouth 
of the Ogeechee river, a few miles below Savannah. After a desperate 
assault by Hazen's division, the fort was captured ; and the arrival of the army 
was signaled to one of the vessels of the Union fleet, lying outside, and thus the 
first news of Sherman's whereabouts was communicated to the eovernment at 
Washington. 

A few days afterward Savannah surrendered, and on December 23d Sher- 
man sent to the President that famous despatch, which sent such gladness to the 
hearts of loval men throughout the Union : — 

" I beg to present you as a Christmas gift the city of Savannah, with one 
hundred and fifty guns and plenty of ammunition, and about twenty-five thou- 
sand bales of cotton." 

It is hardly possible for a generation born since the war to imagine the 
feeling with which the news of Sherman's great march was received in the 
North. For four long years the cause of the Union had been in suspense. 
Victories had been followed by new disasters, until the hearts of Union men 
almost died within them. Sherman's march was the first indication of final 
triumph, the first gleam of dawn which seemed to give sure promise of return- 
ing day. Never were such glad and thankful hearts as in the breasts of those 
who read in Sherman's Christmas message the prophecy of the end of the long 
struggle. 

After reaching Savannah, the army rested for awhile, and Sherman did all 
that he could to re-organize civil affairs in that city and provide for its proper 
government. Then, on January 16, 1865, he turned his face northward, and 
set out on his final march through South and North Carolina, to meet Grant's 
army and bring the war to an end. 

A letter from General -Sherman to his daughter Minnie, then a little girl, 
dated at Goldsboro, North Carolina, March 24, 1865, gives a graphic account 
of the northward march : — 

Mv Dear Minnie : — 

I got here from the battlefield at Bentonville, twenty miles northwest of this place, yesterday, 
but all the army did not get in until to-day. We have been marching for two months in a low, 
swampy country, with very bad roads, and had to bridge many large rivers, so that we had a hard 
time besides the fighting, which seemed the easiest part. Take your geography and look at South 
Carolina. We started from Savannah, crossed the river, and occupied the country from Roberts- 
ville to Pocotaligo. We then marched up toward Barnwell, crossed the Salkehatchie, and got on 
the railroad from Midway to Aiken. Then we marched to Columbia, crossing the Edisto, then 
Saluda and Broad Rivers, then Winnsboro, and turned east to Cheraw, crossing the Catawba. At 



324 WILLIAM T. SHERMAN. 

Cheraw we crossed the Pedee and marched through Lancaster to Fayetteville, North Carolina. 
Then we crossed Cape Fear River and marched up about twenty miles near Averysboro', where we 
had a pretty smart battle; then toward Goldsboro', and at Bentonville we had a real battle, which 
we won, of course. Here we have two railroads, one going down to Wilmington and one to Nevv- 
berne. Ships come to these places, and have in them clothing, food, and horse feed. It will take 
us some days to get the railroad fixed up so as to bring us what we need, so that we may be here 
some time. No doubt tlie newspapers will publish many letters, which you will read, telling you all 
about our adventures. You may not understand how we took Charleston and Wilmington without 
going near them ; but these cities are on the seashore, where the country is poor, and all the people 
had to eat came from the interior by railroad. Now, when my army was in the interior, we broke 
up the railroads and ate the provisions, so the rebel army had to leave or starve. I knew this be- 
forehand, and had small armies on ships ready to take possession when they left. Our soldiers have 
been fighting for Charleston nearly four years, but they didn't go about it right ; so you see what 
power is knowledge. I took Charleston, fortified with over four hundred guns, without fighting at 
all. I get a great many letters, some of which I answer, and some of which Majors Dayton and 
Hitchcock answer for me. It is now nearly midnight, and I have written nearly thirty long letters, 
but have a great many more to write. . . . You and Lizzie must write more frequently now, 
for I suppose, hereafter, I will be near the sea, and will not again be so far from our ships, so that I 
will be able to write and receive letters more frequently. I am in good health ; so is Uncle Char- 
ley. I sent Lizzie a pretty piece of poetry from Fayetteville, and now send you a picture which 
some man from New York sent me. It is a good picture ; you can tell better than I if it be a good 
likeness. . . . My best love to all. 

At Raleigh Sherman heard the glad tidings of Lee's surrender, and, a few 
days later, the news of the President's assassination. On April 26th Johnston's 
army was surrendered, and the long war was brought to an end. 

THE GR.\ND REVIEW. 

On the 22d and 23d of May, 1865, the city of Washington saw one of the 
grandest sights of history. This was the final review of the Union armies, before 
the disbandment. During those two days the long ranks of soldiers, with the 
easy swing and perfect drill of veterans, moved up the grand avenue leading 
from the Capitol to the White House, in what seemed an endless procession. 
On the reviewing stand, with the chief officers of the government and the gen- 
erals of the army, stood the hero of the "march through Georgia ; " and there 
passed before him the men who had faced with him the deadly hail at Shiloh, 
who at his word swept up the heights of Kenesaw Mountain, who shared his 
triumph at Savannah and Atlanta. What thoughts must have stirred the great 
commander's heart as he received the salutes of the devoted men whom he had 
so often led to victory ! What memories must have risen of the brave ones 
missing from those ranks, who, with the Great President, had given their lives 
for that of the nation ! 

Sherman's last campaign, through South and North Carolina, excited great 
interest and admiration in military circles in Europe. A public meeting of the 
Horse Guards, one of the " crack " regiments of the English army, was held, 




REVIEW OF UNION ARMIES AT WASHINGTON, AT THE CLOSE OF THE WAR. 



326 WILLIAM T. SHERMAN. 

at which the Duke of Cambridge, the commander-in-chief, presided, to study 
the campaign, and hear its miUtary movements explained. In spite of the 
affinity of the Enghsh "upper classes" for the cause of the South, Sherman's 
latest achievements suddenly made him the hero of the war. 

In 1866, when Grant was promoted, Sherman was made lieutenant-general ; 
and when Grant became President, Sherman took the place of "General" and 
commander-in-chief of the army, which Grant vacated. This position he held 
for several years, when he retired, and was succeeded by General Sheridan. 

General Sherman was one of the most interesting and picturesque 
characters of his time. He was the last survivor of the great "war heroes," 
and his popularity grew steadily greater until the end of his life. His pen was 
as mighty as his sword, and in his " Memoirs," which he wrote in the years after 
the war, he achieved a literary reputation as unique as his military fame. In his 
later years he was in great request at army reunions and military and civil occa- 
sions of every sort, and he became a most interesting and impressive speaker. 
His utterances were so generally striking and important that Chauncey M. 
Depevv declared that he " never ought to be permitted to go anywhere without 
being accompanied by a stenographer." He did not, however, love notoriety, 
and attained great skill in evading the reporters, who were constantly seeking to 
"interview " him. "No, no," he would say ; "you're a good fellow, and I like 
your paper ; but you mustn't print anything about me. I haven't anything to 
say for publication, — nothing at all. I have had too much publicity already." 

In politics and religion General Sherman was not a strong partisan. When 
in one of the presidential campaigns an effort was made to learn which of the 
candidates he favored, he wrote a humorously non-committal reply, saying, " So 
far as I have been able to learn. General Sherman can hardly be said to belong 
to either of the great political parties," and added that he had no doubt that 
either of the candidates would fill the position with credit to himself and the 
country. In religion he was born a Presbyterian and educated a Roman 
Catholic. On one occasion, in the Georgia campaign, some members of the 
Christian Commission applied to him for permission to pass within the lines. It 
was a time when it was especially necessary that knowledge of his movements 
should not get abroad, and he replied, in brief fashion : — 

" Certainly not. Crackers and oats are more necessary for the army than 
any moral or religious agency ; and every regiment has its chaplain." 

His real religious belief was probably never better expressed than when he 
said, " If men will only act half as well as they know how, God will forgive the 
balance." 

General Sherman died at his residence in New York, on February 14, 
1 89 1, universally beloved and lamented. 



GEORGE B. McCLELLAN, 

FIRST oom;]viaimder ok the aris/ly ok the potoviao, 




HE first commander of the army of the Potomac has been 

the occasion of more controversy than any other man in 

the recent history of the RepubHc. He has had most 

able defenders, — for probably no general who ever lived 

had such a power of inspiring those around him with love 

and admiration ; and even if the verdict of history be that 

he lacked some of the qualities essential to the highest 

success, it must still be admitted that one of the greatest 

commanders of the civil war was George B. McClellan. 

General McClellan was a thoroughly trained and 
equipped soldier. He was born in Philadelphia in 1826. 
He was the son of a distinguished physician, and had every advantage of edu- 
cation. He spent two years In the University of Pennsylvania, where he shared 
the honors of his class. In 1846 he graduated from West Point as second lieu- 
tenant of engineers, and served in the Mexican War, securing promotion 
for gallant conduct at Contreras and Churubusco. Between this time and the 
breaking out of the civil war Captain McClellan was sent to Europe as a 
member of the military commission to inspect and study the organization of 
European armies. He resigned from the army in 1857, and when Fort Sumter 
fell was President of the Eastern Division of the Ohio and Mississippi Railroad. 
In April, 1861, McClellan offered his services to the Government, and was ap- 
pointed major general of Ohio volunteers. His operations in West Virginia 
were so brilliantly successful that after the first battle of Bull Run he was placed 
in command of the Army of the Potomac, and then of all the armies of the 
United States, to the great satisfaction of the whole country, which looked upon 
him as the greatest military genius within its borders. 

McClellan's transcendent power to organize great armies, and Inspire them 
with confidence and enthusiasm, were splendidly proved on two occasions, — 
first, after the disastrous battle of Bull Run. In July, 1861, when out of the chaos 
of defeat and disorder he created, equipped, and disciplined the great Army of 
the Potomac ; and again, after the second and worse Bull Run disaster, in 



330 GEORGE B. McCLELLAN. 

August, 1862, when, at the President's urgent request, he nobly resumed the 
command of which he had been deprived, reorganized his beaten and demoral- 
ized army with marvelous skill and celerity, and defeated Lee at the memorable 
battle of Antietam. Unfortunately, from the beginning there was discord 
between him and the War Department, which increased the enormous difficulty 
of his task. The forces at Washington were dispirited, raw, and frightened. 
McClellan had to bring order out of chaos, to create an army, and to defend 
the capital. His enforced delay was looked on with suspicion by the Govern- 
ment, and Secretary Stanton greatly embarrassed him by constantly urging a 
forward movement. " Give McClellan a million men," said Stanton, contemp- 
tuously, "and he will swear the enemy has two million, and sit down in the 
mud and yell for three million ! " The plans of the campaign, too, were the 
cause of differences between the general and the Secretary of War. Then 
came the Peninsula campaign, with the advance on Richmond, the battles of 
• Fair Oaks and Gaines's Mill, and the great conflict at Malvern Hill, where Lee 
was defeated, and the confusion and disorder in the Confederate ranks were 
so great that Richmond could have been captured had the Union forces been in 
condition to advance. 

In the meantime. General McClellan had lost the confidence of the admin- 
istration. His requests for continued reinforcements were disregarded ; he was 
ordered to evacuate the Peninsula, and was relieved of command until after the 
Second Bull Run. In that terrible emergency, when Pope resigned the com- 
mand of the Army of Virginia, the Government turned to McClellan as the 
only man who could inspire confidence and restore order. When the soldiers 
knew that " Little Mac " was again in command, their joy and renewed hope 
were unbounded. Flushed with his recent victories, Lee was marching into 
Maryland, and McClellan had to cover Washington and at the same time stop 
the invasion. Antietam was the great battle-ground of this movement. While 
it is often called a drawn battle, the forcing back of the Confederate line and 
the retreat of Lee across the Potomac stamp Antietam as really a great victory. 
It was asserted that if General McClellan had attacked the Confederate 
forces with all the power at his disposal after the battle of Antietam, and pur- 
sued Lee into Virginia, the Confederate army could have been crushed. Still, 
General McClellan needed supplies of all kinds, his army was used up, and he 
did what was best in his judgment. Moreover, it is now known that the only 
order given to McClellan was one which gave him command only of "the 
forces for the defense of the capital," and which could not by any stretch of 
construction be taken to authorize an offensive movement into Virginia. 
McClellan himself declared that he fought the battle of Antietam " with a rope 
around his neck," and with the certainty that if he-had lost the battle he would 
have been hanged for e.xceeding his orders. As soon as he received orders 



HIS VINDICATION. 



331 



and supplies he marched against Lee, and was on the eve of battle, in a most 
favorable position, when he was suddenly relieved of his command, which was 
conferred on Burnside. 

General McClellan, though set aside by the Government, never lost his 
hold upon the people. The army idolized him, and his popularity followed him. 
The most substantial proof of his popularity was his nomination at Chicago as 
the Democratic candidate for the Presidency in 1864. Although the time was 
HI chosen, and McClellan himself never sought the nomination, he received a 
popular vote of 
1,800,000 against 
2,200,000 for Lin- 
coln. 

For a decade 
after the war Gen- 
eral McClellan 
was severely criti- 
cised and vigor- 
ously assailed for 
over cautiousness, 
alleged hesitancy, 
and failure to 
grasp the oppor- 
tunities which his 
enemy placed in 
his way. With 
later years his 
reputation has 
been to a large 
extent cleared ofi 
blame for results! 
which were often 
beyond his con- 
trol, and he is now 
given his deserved place among the great leaders of the war. 

The opinions of the Confederate commanders as to McClellan's abilities as 
a general are naturally of especial weight. It is related that after the second 
battle of Bull Run, when the Confederate armies, elated by their victories, were 
pouring across the Potomac for the invasion of the North, Lee one day 
received a dispatch which seemed to be of great importance. One of his sub- 
ordinates, seeing him read it, was anxious to know its contents, " What is the 
news?" he inquired of Lee. 




STATUE OF MCCLELLAN IN CITY HALL SQUARE, PHILADELPHIA. 



332 GEORGE B. McCLELLAN. 

"The worst news possible," replied the Confederate commander, gravely; 
"McClcllaii is in command again T 

Until his death at Orange, N. J., in 18S5, General INIcClellan lived an active 
life. He was Eno-ineer-in-Chief of the Department of Docks in New York in 
1872, was elected Governor of New Jersey in 1S77, and in 1881 was appointed 
by Congress a member of the Board of Managers of the National Home for 
Disabled Soldiers. He declined many tempting business offers and invitations 
from colleges to accept their presidency. 

General McClellan was about five feet eight inches in height, finely built, 
with broad shoulders. He was very solid and muscular, and an excellent horse- 
man. Modest and retiring, he had withal a great self-respect, a gracious dignity. 
His personal magnetism was unparalleled in military histor)', except by that of 
the first Napoleon : he was literally the idol of his officers and men. They 
would obey him when all other control failed. As a student of military history 
he had no superior in his systematic knowledge of war, battles, and tactics. 
He was a man of irreproachable character, — a model Christian gentleman in 
every situation of life- 









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I'HILIP H. SHERIDAN. 



Jj4 




UNITED STATES 12-INCH BREECH-LOADING MORTAR, UR HuWlTZER. 



PHILIP H. SHERIDAN, 

THE HERO OF^ THE "VALLEY CAM:F>AIQN." 



C 




O victory of the Union armies in the civil war was more 
inspiring than that won by General Sheridan at Win- 
_, Chester, in October, 1864, — and inspiring victories 
i? |(K^i'? J ,^ were at that time very much needed. An account of 
" — *"-' '^■«' r that battle is also a picture of Sheridan's character, 
for it was the simple force of his presence and per- 
sonality which transformed demoralized fugitives into 
determined fighters, each feeling 



as though 'twere he 
On whose sole arm hung victory. 



Sheridan was a poor Irish lad, born in Somerset, Ohio, in 
1831. He managed to get from the Congressman of his 
district an appointment to West Point, where his hot temper was perpetually 
introducing premature war. He barely succeeded in graduating in 1853. In 
the early part of the civil war he was in Missouri, and he distinguished himself at 
the battles of Murfreesboro and Chickamauga. But it was in the latter part 
of the war that he won his highest fame. 

One of the most glorious victories of the war was won by Grant's armies 

335 




336 PHILIP H. SHERIDAN. 

at the battle of Chattanooga, when the llnion troops stormed the heights of 
Lookout Mountain and Missionary Ridge. Sheridan was in command of one of 
the four divisions. Emerging from the timber in which the lines were formed, 
the troops charged at double-quick across an open plain, against the first line 
of rifle-pits, at the foot of the ridge. The Confederates were driven out of the 
works, some killed, and many captured. The Union troops did not stop for 
further orders, but rushed on up the ascent, against the second line, half-way to 
the summit. 

At this moment a messenger came from Grant with word that only the first 
line of works was to be attacked. But it was too late ; already the men were 
pressing on up the hill in the face of a storm of bullets. To order them back 
was out of the question. They rushed on with a cheer, carried the second line 
of rifle-pits, and met the enemy in a desperate hand-to-hand fight on the summit. 
The Confederates were driven from their guns and sent flying down the oppo- 
site slope, pursued by a shower of stones from the Union forces, who had not 
time to reload. Before all of Sheridan's men had reached the crest, the demor- 
alized troops of Bragg were seen, with a large train of wagons, flying along the 
valley, half a mile below. 

It was Sheridan's conduct in this brilliant assault which gave Grant the 
implicit confidence in him which he always afterward felt ; and when, a few 
months afterward. Grant was made general-in-chief he at once desired to have 
.Sheridan's assistance in Virginia. Thus it was that the great cavalry leader 
came to win his brilliant victories in the Shenandoah Valley and before Rich- 
mond. 

In 1864, the Confederate general Early made his famous movement 
through the Shenandoah Valley and into Maryland, threatening Washington and 
Baltimore, and even Philadelphia. Disaster seemed imminent. A part of the 
army before Richmond was detached and sent north to protect Washington ; 
and then Grant dispatched Sheridan with his cavalry to the Valley. Some 
weeks passed in waiting and maneuvering, Sheridan being determined not to 
attack until he could get the enemy at a disadvantage. Meantime the country 
was impatient. Grant visited Sheridan, expecting to suggest a plan of opera- 
tions ; but he found Sheridan ready for battle, and only waiting the proper 
moment to strike, so he wisely decided to leave him to his own judgment. At 
last Early unwisely divided his command, and his watchful antagonist attacked 
him, flanked him right and left, and broke his lines in every direction, and sent 
his defeated troops, as Sheridan said in his famous despatch, " whirling through 
Winchester," with a loss of 4500 men. "The results," .said Grant, with his 
quiet humor, " were such that I have never since deemed it necessary to visit 
General .Sheridan before giving him orders." 

Sheridan was not content with a partial victory — he never was. He pur 



BATTLE OF CEDAR CREEK. 337 

sued Early for nearly thirty miles, and just when he thought himself safe and 
beyond reach, attacked him at once in front and on the flank, routed him 
completely, and captured iioo prisoners and sixteen guns. Again he pursued 
his antagonist, and drove him completely out of the Valley and into the gaps of 
the Blue Ridge. " Keep on," said Grant, "and your work will cause the fall 
of Richmond." This double victory had a startling effect both at the North and 
South. The Northern people were jubilant ; the troops of Early were thor- 
oughly beaten and disheartened. The mob in Richmond, disgusted at Early's 
repeated defeats, sarcasdcally labeled the fresh cannon destined for his uce, 

To General Sheridan, 

Care of General Early. 

Sheridan, however, had so devastated the Valley that it would not furnish 
him support, and he retired to Cedar Creek. From this point he was called to 
Washington for consultation ; and while absent, the enemy attacked his forces 
in camp, drove them back in disorder, and captured eighteen guns and nearly a 
thousand prisoners. Sheridan, returning from Washington, stopped over night 
at Winchester. At nine o'clock in the morning, while riding forward to join his 
army, he heard the sound of heavy firing, and knew at once that a battle was in 
progress. Soon he began to meet fugitives from the scene of battle. He took 
in the situation at a glance, and rode forward at a gallop, swinging his hat, and 
shouting, " Face the other way, boys, face the other way. We're going back to 
lick them out of their boots ! " His presence and words were electrical. The 
scattered soldiers faced about, and took up the general's cry, "Face the other 
way ! " They followed him to the front, met the enemy's forces, and quickly 
brought them to a stand. As soon as it was known that -Sheridan was again in 
command, it became impossible to rally the Confederate forces. A terror of the 
Union general had seized them. The captured guns were all retaken, and 
twenty-four pieces besides. Of the Confederates 1800 were killed and wounded 
and 1600 taken prisoners. Early himself escaped with difficulty. This famous 
battle, celebrated in song and story, was one of the most important successes in 
the campaign of 1 864. 

During the winter Sheridan remained near Winchester, and early in 1865 
joined the forces in front of Richmond. On the way he met Early at Waynes- 
boro ; and there he fought his final battle with the Confederate commander. 
His attack was impetuous and irresistible. The troops charged over the breast- 
works and forced their way straight through Early's lines to the rear, where they 
turned and held the approach to the Shenandoah, with the Confederates sur- 
rounded front and rear. Early's entire force laid down their arms and surren- 
dered. Sheridan had destroyed both Early's army and his reputation. Lee 
relieved him of all command, and he retired in disgrace. 



338 



PHILIP H. SHERIDAN. 



Proceeding on his way to Richmond, Sheridan destroyed forty-six canal 
locks, forty bridges, twenty-three railroad bridges, and forty-one miles of railroad, 
besides mills, warehouses, and stores, which would afford support to the enemy. 
On the 25th of March he joined Grant's forces on the James river, and took a 
most important part in the final campaign which ended in Lee's surrender. 




GENERAL SHERIDAN TURNING DEFEAT INTO VICTORY AT CEDAR CREEK. 



Lee evacuated Richmond, and was proceeding to the southwest, intending to 
join the army of Johnston in North Carolina. That this intention was frustrated 
is largely due to the skill and activity of Sheridan, who with his cavalry inter- 
cepted Lee's forces at Five Forks, cut off his supplies of food, and made it 
impossible to longer maintain the contest. On April 9th the great Confederate 



CUSTER'S ENTHUSIASM. 



339 



commander surrendered, and the important part which Sheridan took in the 
campaign passed into history. 

Sheridan was one of the most original and striking characters developed 
by the war. He was a tireless soldier, always on the alert, always eacrer for 
battle, and determined to win it. His enthusiasm and daring were infectious, 
and he was idolized by the men who served under him. After one of his 
victories, when the enemy was retreating, General Custer, then a young and 
romantic soldier, was so filled with admiration for his chief that he threw his 




UNITED STATES MILITARY TELEGRAPH WAGON. 



arms around him and kissed him. Sheridan understood and appreciated the 
tribute ; but he was anxious to start in pursuit of the enemy, "and Custer lost 
time, you know," he said, — "he lost twte." 

Courage and dash always won Sheridan's heart. After a bold movement 
the words of praise came like a hot torrent from his lips, causing the cheek of 
their recipient to flush and glow. The influence of his personal presence was 
extraordinary. It was a grand sight to see him ride swiftly along the lines just 
before a charge, and raise the enthusiasm of the troops to fever heat. At the 
battle of Winchester, when the "old Sixth Corps " rode across the field in 



340 PHILIP H. SHERIDAN. 

splendid array to attack Early's centre, Sheridan rode along their flanks and 
cried out, — 

" Men of the Sixth, our victory to-day depends upon you !" 
These electric words passed from lip to lip, and, animated by the confidence 
of their commander, the veteran troops carried their tattered colors forward and 
clean through the Confederate centre. Then the forces of Early were com- 
pletely routed, and sent "whirling through Winchester," as Sheridan expressed 
it in his famous dispatch. 

After the war and during the " reconstruction period " Sheridan was placed 
in command in Louisiana. In the conflict of President Johnson with Congress 
he supported the latter, for which he was removed by the President. Grant 
protested against this injustice, and when he was elected President, Sheridan 
was made lieutenant-general. Upon Sherman's retirement from the chief com- 
mand of the regular army, Sheridan took his place, and remained until his 
death. He died at Nonquitt, Massachusetts, August 5, 18S8. 




342 



GEORGE G. MEADE, 

THE VICTORIOUS COJVIMIANDBR AT GETTYSBURG. 




»'^' 



O day in the history of the United States is more memor- 
able than July 4, 1863. That anniversary of the birth 
of the nation marked the turning of the tide in the 
great civil war. The army of Lee, pouring into 
Pennsylvania for the invasion of the North, was met 
by the Union forces on the field of Gettysburg, and 
after a three-days battle was defeated and driven back 
into Virginia, never again to cross the Potomac. For 
those three days the fate of the nation hung in the 
balance ; and only those who remember that fearful time 
can fully appreciate what is due to the brave commander of 
the Union armies, General Georgfe G. Meade. 
The battle culminated on the third day, beginning with one of the most 
terrific cannonades of the war. It was Lee's supreme effort. After two days 
of dreadful but indecisive battle, he sent forth the flower of his army, under 
General Pickett, to make that attack on Cemetery Hill which has passed into 
history as one of the greatest charges on record. Five thousand veterans of 
the Confederate army, tried in the fire of many a desperate battle, formed on 
Seminary Ridge, and moved with the precision of a machine across the valley 
which lay between the two armies. As the terrible cannonade from the Union 
guns made gaps in their ranks, they were quickly closed up, and the column 
moved forward with swifter steps, but still in perfect order, toward the Union 
centre on Cemetery Hill. The infantry defending the hill reserved their fire 
until the charging column was within short range ; and then burst forth an awful 
storm of bullets, before which the advance line of the Confederates withered. 
The second line, undismayed, rushed forward over the bodies of their comrades, 
and were close upon the Union gunners at their pieces. For a time the force 
of the charore seemed irresistible ; but now the attackinof column became the 
centre of a converging fire from front and both flanks, which was rapidly anni- 
hilating them. The divisions of Wilcox and Pettigrew, which were supporting 
Pickett, had fallen back, and his column was left to meet the deadly storm alone. 

343 



344 



GEORGE G. MEADE. 



It was clearly impossible to hold their position, and the order was given to with- 
draw. Of the five thousand men who had advanced in such perfect order, 
thirty-five hundred were killed, wounded, or prisoners in the hands of the Union 
army. The remainder of the division fell back, shattered and broken, to the 
Confederate lines. The tide was turned. Meade had successfully defeated 
Lee's attack, and the Confederate army, after terrible losses, commenced its 
retreat through Maryland and across the Potomac, never again to invade the 
North. 

"They fell, who lifted up a hand 
And bade the sun in heaven to stand; 
They smote and fell, who set the bars 
Against the progress of the stars. 

And stayed the march of Motherland. 

" They stood, who saw the future come 
On through the fight's delirium ; 
They smote and stood, who held the hope 
Of nations on that slippery slope. 
Amid the cheers of Christendom. 

"God lives; he forged the iron will 
That clutched and held that trembling hill. 
God lives and reigns; he built and lent 
The heights for Freedom's battlement. 
Where floats her flag in triumjih still." 

In the campaigns before Richmond in 1864, Meade continued in command 
of the Army of the Potomac, and Grant testified that he always found him " the 
right man in the right place." In 1866 he received the thanks of Congress for 
the skill and heroic valor with which, at Gettysburg, he repulsed, defeated, and 
drove back, dispirited, the veteran army of the rebellion." 

"The country," says Colonel A. K. McClure, writing of " Our Unrewarded 
Heroes," "has never done justice to General Meade as a military commander. 
. . . The man who fought and won the battle of Gettysburg should have been 
the commander-in-chief of the armies of the Union, and held that position during 
life. It was the great battle of the war ; it was the Waterloo of the Confeder- 
acy, and the victory then achieved was won by the skill of the commanding 
general antl the heroism of his army. . . . That army was the single hope of 
the nation, for had it been defeated in a great battle, Washington and the wealth 
of our Eastern cities would have been at the mercy of the insurgents. It was 
an occasion for the most skillful and prudent generalship, united with the great 
courage essential to command successfully in such an emergency. All these 
high requirements General Meade fully met, and the most critical examination 
of the record he made in the Gettysburg cainpaign develops nothing but 



346 



GEORGE G. MEADE. 



what heightens his qualities for the peculiarly grave emergency that confronted 
him." 

General Meade did not receive the promotion to which many thought that 
his great services at the battle of Gettysburg entitled him ; " and he went down 
to his grave," says Colonel McClure, "one of the sorrowing and unrewarded 
heroes of the war." He died in Philadelphia in November, 1872, in a house 
which had been presented to his wife by his countrymen, h. fund of one hun- 
dred thousand dollars was, after his death, subscribed for his family. 




LATEST MODEL OF CATLING FIELD GUN, 




GEORGE H. THOMAS. 



348 



GEORGE H. THOMAS, 

THE QREAT UNION QENERAL. 




A ME," says Horace Greeley, " is a vapor ; popularity an 
accident." No one of the great commanders whose skill 
and courage won victory for the nation in the great civil 
war better exemplifies the truth of Greeley's saying than 
General Thomas. His abilities were of the very highest 
order. " He was," says a most competent critic, " one of 
the very few commanders who never committed a serious 
military error, who never sacrifioed a command, and who 
never lost a battle," His private character was without a 
stain. He was the ideal of a soldier and a gentleman. 
Yet, as he was too modest to seek promotion or conspicuous 
position, his fame is small indeed in comparison with the value of 
the services he rendered to the country, 
George Henry Thomas was born in Southampton county, Virginia, on 
July 31, 1816. He was graduated from West Point in 1840, and won promo- 
tion for bravery in the Mexican war. At the outbreak of the civil war he was 
in Texas, but reported at once for duty, and was placed in command of a brigade 
in Northern Virginia. 

General Thomas especially distinguished himself during the war In three 
great battles, — the first In Kentucky, where, in January, 1862, he defeated the 
Confederate general, ZoUikoffer, at Mill Spring, on the Cumberland river. This 
was the first real victory of the war ; and for It General Thomas received the 
thanks of the Legislature, but no promotion. The chivalrous generosity with 
which he refused promotion when It was offered at the expense of others, stood 
in his way throughout the whole war, and he at no time held the rank to which 
he was justly entitled. 

The second of Thomas's great battles was that of Chlckamauga, in Septem- 
ber, 1863. In this battle it was Thomas alone who saved the Union army from 
utter ruin. The scene of the conflict was In the mountains of East Tennessee, 
when Bragg attempted to capture Chattanooga and the roads leading to It. Again 
and again the Confederate troops assaulted Thomas's position, behind a rude 

349 



350 



GEORGE H. THOMAS. 



breastwork of logs and rails ; but their most desperate attacks failed to dis- 
lodge him, and his firmness saved the army from disastrous defeat. This battle 
gave him the name of "The Rock of Chickamauga." 

The third of his great campaigns was that of Nashville, which was the only 
one where he was in full command ; and this has been pronounced the most 
completely successful battle of the war. Hood marched north from Atlanta into 
Tennessee, leaving Sherman behind him to make the great " march to the sea," 
and moved against Thomas, who fortified himself in Nashville. His superiors, 
Sherman, Grant, and Stanton, were impatient for him to attack Hood ; but 







A RAILROAD BATTERY. 



Thomas said he was not yet ready, and refused. Grant called him "slow;" 
Sherman, writing to Grant, complained of his " provoking, obstinate delay ;" 
'Stanton wrote to Grant that "This looks like the McClellan and Rosecrans 
policy of do nothing, and let the enemy raid the countr)'." But Thomas would 
not be hurried into action before he was ready, insisting that he ought to know 
when it was best to fight. An order was actually issued for his removal, but, for- 
tunately, was revoked. When at last he was ready to attack Hood, a storm of 
rain and sleet covered the ground with a coating of ice, which made it impos- 
sible to move. But finally, in January, 1865, he made the attack, and in a tw(y- 



BATTLE OF NASHVILLE. 351 

days battle won the most complete victory of the war. The army of Hood was 
not merely defeated, but dispersed and annihilated. Thomas captured over 
fifty guns, large quantities of stores, and eight thousand prisoners, including one 
major-general, three brigadier-generals, and more than two hundred commissioned 
officers. 

The stroke administered at Nashville so effectually finished the enemy that 
little remained to be done in that section. The troops of Thomas participated 
in the closing scenes of the war, and from June, 1865, to March, 1867, he was 
in command of the Department of the Tennessee. In 1868 he was placed over 
the Fourth Military Division, which included Alaska and the territory on the 
Pacific slope. He declined accepting the rank of lieutenant-general, on theground 
that he had done nothing since the war to entitle him to promotion. 

General Thomas was a most interesting character. He was a man of 
method and regularity in everything. He hated to change his habits or his clothes, 
and to give up an old coat was a severe trial to him. In the early part of the 
war, when promotion was rapid, he passed quickly through the different stages 
from colonel to major-general : and it is told of him that long after he became a 
brigadier-general he was still wearing his colonel's uniform. He was made a 
major-general in June, 1862, but he did not arrive at the uniform of his rank 
until January, 1863, — and even then the change was accomplished only by a 
trick of his aids, carried out by the help of his body-servant. 

"they're fighting without any system." 

His devotion to method had a ludicrous illustration at the battle of Chicka- 
mauga. The Confederate forces made a tremendous assault on his position, — 
an assault which was met with the most admirable skill and bravery. At a 
critical moment a messenger arrived with word that reinforcements were being 
sent, and asking at what point they were most needed. " I can't tell," responded 

Thomas, — " I can't tell ; the d scoundrels are fighting without any sjs/cfu ! " 

The unsystematic Confederates were repulsed, and the army saved, and General 
Thomas accepted an invitation from General Scribner to take a cup of coffee at 
his camp-fire. Thomas sipped his coffee, turned the conversation to indifferent 
matters, and appeared entirely unconscious of the fact that he had fought one 
of the most important battles of the war, and saved Rosecrans's army from 
ruin. 

General Thomas was courteous and dignified in manner, and his heavy 
form and deliberate motions went well with the caution and dehberation which 
were so prominent in his character. His soldiers had the greatest confidence 
in and affection for him, which appeared in the various nicknames which they 
bestowed on him, — " Pap Thomas," "Old Reliable," "Old Pap Safety," 
" Old Slow-Trot," and " Uncle George." He never joked with them, however. 



352 



GEORGE H. THOMAS. 



nor permitted any familiarity, yet few of the commanders in the Union army 
were so popular with the men who served under them. 

" No man in the army," says Colonel McClure, "more perfectly completed 
the circle of soldier and gentleman. . . . He was one of the most lovable 
characters I have ever known, but it required exhaustive ingenuity to induce 
him to speak about any military movements in which he was a prominent par- 
ticipant. Any one might have been in daily intercourse with him for years and 
never learned from him that he had won great victories in the field." 

General Thomas died in San Francisco on March 28, 1870. 




FROZEN NIAGARA. 



ROBERT E. LEE, 

THE GREAT CONIIVIANDER. OK THE COISIKEDERA.TE5 

ARNIIES, 




F ALL the men whose character and abihty were devel- 
oped in the great civil war, there was perhaps not 
one in either the Union or the Confederate army 
whose greatness is more generally acknowledged 
than that of Robert E. Lee. His ability as a soldier 
and his character as a man are alike appreciated ; and 
while it is natural that men of the North should be 
unable to understand his taking up arms against the 
Government, yet that has not prevented their doing full 
justice to his greatness. It is not too much to say that 
General Lee is recognized, both North and South, as one of 
the greatest soldiers, and one of the ablest and purest men, 
that America has produced. 

Robert Edward Lee was born in Westmoreland County, Virginia, January 
19, 1807. He was the son of the famous Revolutionary general, " Light Horse 
Harry Lee." He was graduated at West Point in 1829, and won high honor 
in the Mexican war. General Scott attributed the capture of Vera Cruz to 
his skill. For three years he was in command at the West Point Military 
Academ3^ where he made great improvements, and did much to raise its stand- 
ing and improve its efficiency. When John Brown made his famous raid at 
Harper's Ferry, in 1859, Lee was hastily dispatched thither with a body of 
United States troops. When they arrived. Brown had entrenched himself in 
the arsenal engine-house, which Lee attacked, battered down the door, captured 
the raiders, and turned them over to the civil authorities. 

At the breakincr out of the war Lee was much in doubt as to the right 
course. He disapproved of secession, but was thoroughly pervaded with the 
idea of loyalty to his State, — an idea which was almost universal in the South, 
but incomprehensible to the people of the North. He had great difficulty in 
arriving at a decision ; but when at last Virginia adopted an ordinance of seces- 
sion, he resigned his commission in the United States army. Writing to his 

355 



356 ROBERT E. LEE. 

sister, he said, "Though I recognize no necessity for this state of things, and 
would have forborne and pleaded to the end for redress of grievances, yet in 
my own person I had to meet the question whether I should take part against 
my native State. With all my devotion to the Union, and the feeling of loyalty 
and duty as an American citizen, I have not been able to make up my mind to 
raise my hand against my relatives, my children, my home. I have therefore 
resigned my commission in the army, and, save in defense of my native State, 
... I hope I may never be called upon to draw my sword." 

lee's cle.\r foresight. 

He was quickly called upon to "defend his native State." None real- 
ized better than he that a long and bloody war was coming, and that Virginia 
would be the chief battle-ground. General Imboden has given an interesting 
account of an interview with Lee in May, 1861, just after he was put in com- 
mand of the armies of Virginia. General Imboden had gone to Richmond to 
urge the sending of troops to Harper's Ferry. " It was Sunday," he writes, 
" and I found the General entirely alone, in a small room on Bank street, near 
the Capitol. It was the first time I had met him, and I am sure he was the 
handsomest man I had ever seen. His hair and moustache — he wore no beard 
— were only slightly silvered with gray, just enough to harmonize freely with 
his rich, ruddy complexion, a little bronzed, and to give perfect dignity to the 
expression of his grand and massive features. His manner was grave, but 
frank and cordial. He wore a simple undress military suit, without badge or 
ornament of any kind, and there was nothing in his surroundings to indicate 
high military rank. . . . 

" I rose to take my leave, when he asked me to resume my seat, remarking 
that he wished to talk with me about the condition of the country, and the ter- 
rible storm which was so soon to burst upon it in all its fury. . . . He said he 
desired to impress me . . . with the gravity and danger of our situation, and 
the imperative necessity for immediate and thorough preparation for defense. 
Growing warm and earnest, he said, ' I fear our people do not yet realize 
the magnitude of the struggle they have entered upon, nor its probable dura- 
tion, and the sacrifices it will impose upon them. The United States Govern- 
ment,' he said, ' is one of the most powerful upon earth. I know the people 
and the government we have to contend with. In a little while they will be even 
more united than we are. Their resources are almost without limit. They 
have a thoroughly organized government, commanding the respect, and, to some 
extent, the fears of the world. Their army is complete in all its details and 
appointments, and it will be commanded by the foremost soldier of the country. 
General Scott, whose devotion to the Union cause is attested by his drawing 
his sword against his native State. They have also a navy that in a little while 




5 



358 



ROBERT E. LEE. 



will blockade our ports and cut us off from all the world. They have nearly all 
the workshops and skilled artisans of the country, and will draw upon the 
resources of other nations to supply any deficiency they may feel. And above 
all, we shall have to fight the prejudices of the world, because of the existence 
of slavery in our country. Our enemies will have the ear of other powers, 
while we cannot be heard, and they will be shrewd enough to make the war 
appear to be merely a struggle on our part for the maintenance of slavery ; and 
we shall thus be without sympathy, and most certainly without material aid from 




THE JAMES RIVKR AND COUNTRY NEAR RICHMOND. 



Other powers. To meet all this we have a government to form, an army to 
raise, organize, and equip, as best we may. We are without a treasury, and 
without credit. We have no ships, few arms, and few manufacturers. Our 
people are brave and enthusiastic, and will be united in defense of a just cause. 
I believe we can succeed in establishing our independence, if the people can be 
made to comprehend at the outset that to do so they must endure a longer war 
and far greater privations than our fathers did in the Revolution of 1776. We 
will not succeed until the financial power of the North is completely broken. 



HIS CLEAR FORESIGHT. 359 

and this can occur only at the end of a long and bloody war. Many of our 
people think it will soon be over, that perhaps a single campaign and one great 
battle will end it. This is a fatal error, and must be corrected, or we are 
doomed. Above all, Virginians must prepare for the worst. Our country is of 
wide extent and great natural resources, but the conflict will be mainly in Vir- 
ginia. She will become the Flanders of America before this war is over, and 
her people must be prepared for this. If they resolve at once to dedicate their 
lives and all they possess to the cause of constitutional government and South- 
ern independence, and to suffer without yielding as no other people have been 
called upon to suffer in modern times, we shall, with the blessing of God, suc- 
ceed in the end ; but when it will all end no man can foretell. I wish I could 
talk to every man, woman, and child in the State now, and impress them with 
these views.' 

"The prophetic forecast of General Lee became widely known, and as sub- 
sequent events verified his judgment, it aided materially in giving him that con- 
trol over the public mind of the South that enabled him often by a simple 
expression of his wishes to procure larger supplies and aid for his army than the 
most stringent acts of Congress and merciless impressment orders could obtain. 
The people came to regard him as the only man who could possibly carry us 
through the struggle successfully. The love of his troops for him knew no 
bounds, because they had implicit faith in his ability, and knew he was a sym- 
pathizing friend in all their trials. . . . 

THE CONFEDERATE COMMANDER'S DINNER. 

" The great simplicity of his habits was another ground of popularity. He 
fared no better than his troops. Their rough, scant rations were his as well. 
There were times when for weeks our army had nothing but bread and meat to 
live on, and not enough of that. When the two armies were on the opposite 
banks of the Rappahannock, in the winter of 1863-64, meat was sometimes very 
scarce in ours. Even the usual half-pound per diem ration could not always be 
issued. During one of these periods of scarcity, on a very stormy day, several 
corps and division generals were at headquarters, and were waiting for the rain 
to abate before riding to their camps, when General Lee's negro cook announced 
dinner. The General invited his visitors to dine with him. On repairing to the 
table a tray of hot corn-bread, a boiled head of cabbage seasoned with a very 
small piece of bacon, and a bucket of water constituted the repast. The piece of 
meat was so small that all politely declined taking any, expressing themselves as 
' very fond of boiled cabbage and corn-bread,' on which they dined. Of course, 
the General was too polite to eat meat in the presence of guests who had de- 
clined it. But later in the afternoon, when they had all gone, feeling very 
hungry, he called his servant and asked him to bring him a piece of bread and 



36o 



ROBERT E. LEE. 



meat. The darkey looked perplexed and embarrassed, and after scratching his 
head some time said in a deprecating tone, ' Lord, Mas' Robert, dat meat what 
I sot before you at dinner warn't ours. I had jest borrowed dat piece of mid- 
dlin' from one of de couriers to season de cabbage in de pot, and seein' as you 
was gwine to have company at dinner, I put on de dish wid de cabbage for 
looks. But when I seed you an' none of de genelmen toche it I 'eluded you all 
knowed it was borrowed, and so after dinner I sont it back to de boy what it 
belong to. I's mighty sorry, Mas' Robert, I didn't know you wanted some, for 
den I would 'a' tuck a piece off 'n it anyhow 'fore I sont it home.' " 

In the latter part of 1861, General Lee was sent to the coast of South 




LIBBY PRISON IN lS»4, BEFORE ITS REMOVAL TO CHICAGO. 



Carolina, where he planned the defenses which so long proved impregnable to 
all attacks of the Union forces, and which were held until the northward march 
of Sherman's army in 1865 compelled the evacuation of Charleston. Lee then 
returned to Virginia, and in June, 1862, he took command of the Confederate 
forces defending Richmond. On June 26th, he met McClellan at Mechanicsville 
and Gaines's Mill ; and then began that long and terrible series of battles 
between his forces and the Army of the Potomac, which so splendidly displayed 
his magnificent abilities as a commander. In defensive warfare he was almost 
invincible. He defeated McClellan on the Peninsula, Burnside at Fredericks- 
burg, and Hooker at Chancellorsville. Not until Grant took command in 1864 
had a general been found wlio could successfully cope with Lee ; and even 



GETTYSBURG AND AFTER. 361 

Grant accomplished Lee's final defeat not so much by superior generalship as 
by steadily taking advantage of his own superior resources. 

After the great conflict at Gettysburg, in July, 1863, the great resources of 
the North, so far superior to those of the South, began to tell ao-ainst the 
Confederacy. It became almost impossible to recruit the Southern armies, or 
to properly supply the men who were already in the field. Henceforth Lee's 
operations were confined to the defense of Virginia ; and it is hard to overrate 
the masterly ability with which this was done, under almost insuperable diffi- 
culties and discouragements. It was love and devotion to their commander 
which held together the armies of the Confederacy ; and this, coupled with their 
confidence in his skill, long made his ragged and half-starved soldiers more 
than a match for the superior armies of McClellan and Grant. General Grant 
perceived this, and saw that it was really a question of endurance, — that the 
Confederacy could be overcome only when the resources of the .South were so 
far exhausted that the war could no longer be carried on ; and it was with this 
idea in his mind that he took command of the Union armies in 1864. 

The battle of the Wilderness, on May 5th, was the beginning of the end. 
Spottsylvania followed, and then Cold Harbor, where the frightful losses of the 
Union armies gave terrible proof of Lee's ability to take swift advantage of the 
least mistake of his antagonist. Then came the siege of Petersburg, and after 
a spring and summer of persistent fighting, Lee seemed as able as ever to keep 
the Union armies at bay. But, as Grant had foreseen, the struggle had told 
heavily upon his resources ; and when the triumphant march of Sherman through 
Georgia had exposed the hopelessly exhausted condition of the South, the end 
of the struggle was seen to be approaching. 

The deprivation and poverty in Virginia in the last year of the war were 
extreme. The railroad communications of Richmond being often destroyed by 
the Union cavalry, it was impossible to keep the city supplied, and many of the 
people were on the verge of starvation. Pea soup and bread were the food of 
large numbers. Confederate money had so depreciated that it was often said 
that it took a basketful to go to market. A barrel of flour cost several hundred 
dollars. Boots were four and five hundred dollars a pair. 

Still Lee held out, and in the spring of 1S65 maintained with persistent 
skill and courage the hopeless defense of Richmond ; but his army was melting 
away ; it was impossible to supply them even with food ; the men themselves 
saw that further conflict was a useless sacrifice, and were ready to accept the 
result which came at Appomattox Court House on April 9, 1865. 

The universal affection and respect which the people of the South felt for 
General Lee was, if possible, increased after the close of the war. The confis- 
cation of his property had rendered him homeless. The people of Virginia 
offered him homes almost without nimiber, and relatives also who lived in Eng- 



362 



ROBERT E. LEE. 



land were desirous that he should take up his abode there ; but General Lee 
would not consent to be separated from the country he loved. He was deeply 
attached to the people of the South, as they to him ; and of the many homes 

offered him, he chos'i 
one in Powhatan 
County, a small and 
simple country place, 
where he gathered 
his wife and children 
around him, expect- 
ing- to lead a retired 
and quiet life. He 
was also offered 
many positions, in 
which he would re- 
ceive a liberal salary 
for little or no labor ; 
but these his pride 
would not permit 
him to accept. Final- 
ly a proposition was 
made by the trustees 
of Washington Col- 
lege that he should 
become president of 
that institution. This 
offer, much to the 
gratification of his 
friends, he concluded 
to accept, believing, 
as he said, that he 
could be of influence 
and use in that posi 
tion. This expecta- 
tion was not disap- 
pointed. The Univer- 
sity quickly became 
one of the most popular educational institutions of the South, which was no 
doubt largely in consequence of the fact that he was at the head of it. The 
number of students increased ten-fold within a comparatively short time after 
General Lee became its president. His wisdom and skill in managing the 







^^^ 



'GENKRAL LEE TO THE REAR 1 



AFFECTION OF THE PEOPLE. 



363 



students of the University was remarkable. His appeal to the higher sentiments 
of the young men seemed never to fail of a response. They were ashamed to 
do anything less than their best when feeling that General Lee's eye was upon 
them. He was ac- 
customed to remind 
them o;i entering the 
college of the loving 
solicitude with which 
their course would 
be watched by their 
mothers ; and this 
appeal to their high- 
est feelings seldom 
failed to have great 
effect upon their con- 
duct and character. 

One conse- 
quence of the filial 
feeling which the 
people of the South 
entertained for Gen- 
eral Lee was that he 
was flooded with let- 
ters upon every con- 
ceivable subject, from 
all parts of the coun- 
try. At a time when 
he had in charge five 
hundred young men, 
with a corps of 
twenty five instruct- 
ors under him, he 
was receiving daily 
almost innumerable 
letters from old sol- 
diers, their widows 
or children, and from 

those who had not even this claim upon him ; many asking for money, and 
nearly all appealing for advice or assistance in some form. A friend once said 
to him, "You surely do not feel obliged to answer all of these letters?" 
"Indeed I do," he replied. "Think of the trouble that many of these poor 




LEE AND THE FERRYMAN. 



364 



ROBERT E. LEE. 



people have taken to write me. Why should I not be willing to take the 
trouble to reply? That is all I can give, and that I give ungrudgingly." 

Ln 1867, in company with his daughter Mildred, he rode on horseback to 

the Peaks of Otter, 






fifty miles from Lex 
ington. At a ferry 
on the route the 
boatman chanced to 
be an old soldier. 
When the usual 
charge was ten- 
dered, the rough 
mountaineer's eyes 
filled with tears, and 
he shook his head, 
saying, "I colild not 
take pay from you, 
Master Robert : 1 
have followed you 
in many a battle." 

Bitterness or re- 
sentment seemed to 
have no place in 
General Lee's na- 
ture. When the fate 
of war went against 
him, he accepted its 
result in good faith, 
and thenceforward 
did his best to re- 
store good feeling 
between the North 
and the South. Even 
toward men who ex 
hibited the most in- 
tense bitterness 
against him he 
seemed to have no other feeling than kindness and good-will. This was 
the case even with those who sought to have him tried and punished for 
treason. During the war it was noticeable that he never spoke of the Union 
soldiers as " Yankees." the common expression in the Southern army. They 




<-^c^-^- 






ft' 



LEE AND THE LMoN SOLDIER. 



SCENE AFTER GETTYSBURG. 365 

were always mentioned as "Federals," or " the enemy." He regretted and 
condemned the harsh and bitter language which characterized the Southern 
newspapers. " Is it any wonder," he said, 'ithat Northern journals should retort 
as they do, when those in the South employ such language against them? " 

LEE AND THE UNION SOLDIER. 

A touching stor)% illustrating this noble trait of General Lee's character, 
was told years after the war by a Union veteran who was viewing the great 
panorama, "The Battle of Gettysburg." He said, "I was at the battle of 
Gettysburg myself. I had been a most bitter anti-South man, and fought and 
cursed the Confederates desperately. I could see nothing good in any of them. 
The last day of the fight I was badly wounded. A ball shattered my left leg. 
I lay on the ground not far from Cemetery Ridge, and as General Lee ordered 
his retreat, he and his officers rode near me. As they came along I recognized 
him, and, though faint from exposure aijd loss of blood, 1 raised up my hands, 
looked Lee in the face, and shouted as loud as I could, ' Hurrah for the 
Union ! ' The general heard me, looked, stopped his horse, dismounted, and 
came toward me. I confess that I at first thought he meant to kill me. But as 
he came up he looked down at me with such a sad expression upon his face 
that all fear left me, and I wondered what he was about. He extended his 
hand to me, and grasping mine firmly and looking right into my eyes, said, 
' My son, I hope you will soon be well.' 

"If I live a thousand years I shall never forget the expression on General 
Lee's face. There he was, defeated, retiring from a field that had cost him and 
his cause almost their last hope, and yet he stopped to say words like those to 
a wounded soldier of the opposition who had taunted him as he passed by ! 
As soon as the general had left me I cried myself to sleep there upon the 
bloody ground." 

The value of General Lee's example in restoring good feeling between the 
North and South can hardly be overestimated. He was so universally looked 
up to by the Southern people that his opinions and example could not fail to 
have the greatest effect. It is no small part of his title to fame that his great 
influence should have been used as it was toward reuniting the country after 
the war, rather than in perpetuating strife and hatred. 

General Lee's domestic hfe was an almost ideal one. During his last years, 
his wife was an invalid, suffering from rheumatic gout, and his devotion to her 
was unfailing. Her health rendered it necessary for her to travel to the medi- 
cinal springs in different parts of Virginia, and he used often to precede her on 
the journey, in order to have everything in readiness on her arrival. He con- 
trived an apparatus whereby she could be lowered into the baths in her chair. 
in order to avoid ascending and descending the steps. His love for his children 



366 



ROBERT E. LEE. 



manifested itself in a tender and delicate courtesy which was beautiful to see; 
and which was repaid on their part by the strongest attachment. 

General Lee died at Lexington, Virginia, October 12, 1870. After his 
death the name of the college over which he had presided was changed, in his 
honor, to "Washington and Lee University," and stands a worthy monument 
of the great soldier, whose noble qualities were shown as conspicuously in peact; 
as in war. The issues which divided our country into hostile sections have 
happily passed away ; and North and South can join in cherishing his memory 
and doing honor to his spotless fame. 



*.•;. -t 



i 





MONUMENT TO GENERAL LEE, AT RICHMOND, VIRGINIA. 



I 




368 



THOMAS JONATHAN JACKSON, 

THE QREAX CONFEDERATE; GENERAL,. 




ANY remarkable characters were developed on both 
sides in the great civil war of 1861. The war 
brought out in men qualities and powers which had 
never before been known or suspected. One of the 
most striking of such characters was the brave and 
able but eccentric man known as Stonewall Jackson, 
who fell in the battle of Chancellorsville, in May, 
'1863. 

Thomas Jonathan Jackson was born in Clarks- 
burg, Virginia, January 21, 1824. At the age of 
eighteen he was appointed to the West Point Mili- 
tary Academy. Owing to the fact that he was poorly 
prepared to enter that institution, he never took a 
hiofh standing: in his classes. He was graduated in 
1847 and ordered to Mexico. He took part in Scott's campaign from Vera 
Cruz to the city of Mexico, and was twice brevetted for gallant conduct, at 
Churubusco and Chapultepec, finally attaining the rank of first lieutenant of 
artillery. After the Mexican war he was on duty at Fort Hamilton, New York 
harbor, and subsequently at Fort Meade, Fla., but in 1851 ill health caused him 
to resign his commission in the army and return to his native State, where he 
was elected professor of natural sciences and artillery tactics in the Virginia 
Military Institute. 

Of Jackson's life at the Institute many stories are told, illustrating the pecu- 
liarities of his character. He was commonly called " Old Jack," and sometimes 
"Fool Tom Jackson," by the students, who were better able to perceive his 
eccentricities than his merits. His extreme conscientiousness is illustrated by 
his walking a long distance through snow and sleet one winter night to 
apologize to a cadet whom he had sent to his seat in class for a mistake in reci- 
tation. It proved that there was an error in the text-book, and that the student 
was correct. Most men would have thought it sufficient to rectify the error on 
the following day. Not so Jackson. As soon as he discovered that he was 
22 369 



370 THOMAS JON A THAN J A CKSON. 

wrong, his conscience would not permit liini to rest a moment until he had sought 
the student's room and set himself right. 

Jackson was above all things a religious man. At all times and places, in 
every act of his life, religion was his first thought. A friend was once convers- 
ing with him about the difficulty of the Scripture injunction, " Pray without 
ceasing," and Jackson insisted that we could so accustom ourselves to it that it 
could be easily obeyed. "When we take our meals, there is grace. When I 
take a drink of water I always pause, as my palate receives the refreshment, to 
lift up my heart in thanks to God for the water of life. Whenever I drop a 
letter in the box at the post-ofiice, I send a petition along with it for God's 
blessing upon its mission and upon the person to whom it is sent. When I 
break the seal of a letter just received, I stop to pray to God that he may pre- 
pare me for its contents and make it a messenger of good. When I go to my 
class-room and await the arrangement of the cadets in their places, that is my 
time to intercede with God for them. And so with every other familiar act of 
the day." 

" But," said his friend, "do you not often forget these seasons, coming so 
frequently ? " 

" No," said he ; " I have made the practice habitual, and I can no more for- 
get it than forget to drink when I am thirsty." 

Upon the secession of Virginia Jackson was among the first to answer the 
call to arms, and wrote to Governor Letcher, offering to serve in any position to 
which he might be assigned. The Governor immediately commissioned him a 
colonel of Virginia volunteers. He was placed in command of the troops at 
Harper's Ferry, and upon the formation of the Army of the Shenandoah he was 
placed in charge of the famous "Stonewall Brigade," with which his name was 
thenceforth identified. That singular appellation of a body of troops origin- 
ated in this wise : — 

In the early part of the battle of Bull Run the Confederates had decidedly 
the worst of it. Bartow's and Bee's brigades were terribly cut up and driven 
from the field for a time, and all seemed lost, when Jackson suddenly appeared 
upon the scene with his splendid brigade. With magical rapidity he took in the 
situation, and formed his lines to resist the advance of the enemy. Bee and 
Bartow had succeeded in rallying fragments of their brigades. To re-assure his 
soldiers. Bee addressed them briefly, and, pointing to Jackson's men as a worthy 
example of courage and coolness, he exclaimed, " Look at those Virginians ! 
They stand like a stone wall." The next day Bee's compliment was repeated 
all over the camp, and the name stuck to the brigade and its commander ever 
after. 

One of Jackson's peculiarities was a passion for exact justice. He would 
not permit his rank to give him the smallest advantage over the common sol- 



WAITING FOR "HIS TURN." 



371 



diers of his command. When at Bull Run he made the celebrated charee which 
turned the fortunes of the day, he raised his left hand above his head to encour- 
age the troops, and while in this position a ball struck a finger, broke it, 
and carried off a piece of the bone. He remained upon the field, wounded as 
he was, till the fight was over, and then wanted to take part in the pursuit, but 
was peremptorily ordered back to the hospital by the general commanding. 
The chief surgeon was busily engaged with the wounded, but left them and 
asked Jackson if he was seriously hurt. " No," he answered, " not half as badly 




HARPER S KERRY. 



as many here, and I will wait." And he forthwith sat down on the bank of a 
little stream near by, and positively declined any assistance until "his turn 
came." 

In October, 1861, Jackson was commissioned a major-general, and sent to 
take command in the Shenandoah Valley. In the course of the winter he drove 
the Federal troops from the district, and early in the following March was there 
when Banks was sent against him. He fell back before Banks some forty miles, 
then suddenly turned, and with only thirty-five hundred men attacked him so 
fiercely that he retreated with all his troops. His campaign in April, 1862, 




BATILL OF CHANCELLORbVlLLE. JACKSON S ATTACK. ON THE RIGHT WJNG. 



HIS DEATH AT CHANCELLORSVHLE. 373 

when he whipped Milroy, Banks, Shields, and Fremont, one after another, and 
then suddenly descended upon McClellan at Gaines's Mill, when the Union 
generals thought he was still in the Valley, constitutes one of the most brilliant 
chapters in modern warfare. He took part in the operations against McClellan, 
and in July he was again detached and sent to Gordonsville to look after his old 
enemies in the Valley, who were gathering under Pope. On August 9th he 
crossed the Rapidan and struck Banks another crushing blow at Cedar Run. On 
August 25th he passed around Pope's right flank and forced him to let go his 
hold upon the Rappahannock. By stubborn fighting he kept him on the ground 
until Longstreet could get up, and routed Pope at the second battle of Bull Run, 
in August, 1862. 

Two weeks later, in the beginning of the Maryland campaign, Jackson In- 
vested and captured Harper's Ferry with eleven thousand prisoners, many 
stands of arms, and seventy-two guns, and by a terrible night march reached 
Sharpsburg on September i6th. The next morning he commanded the left 
wing of the Confederate army, repulsing with his thin line the corps of Hooker, 
Mansfield, and Sumner, which were in succession hurled against him. At Fred- 
ericksburg, December 13, 1862, Jackson commanded the Confederate right wing, 
and in May, 1863, made his Chancellorsville movement, which resulted in his 
death. On May 3d he received a severe wound in the arm, which rendered am- 
putation necessary. Pneumonia supervened, and he died on the loth of May. 

In person Jackson is described by an intimate friend as " a tall man, six 
feet hieh, angular, stronof, with rather larsfe feet and hands." He rather strode 
alonor than walked. There was something firm and decided even in his gait. 
His eyes were dark blue, large, and piercing. He looked straight at you, and 
throtigli you almost, as he talked. He spoke in terse, short sentences, always 
to the point. There was never any circumlocution about what he had to say. 
His hair was inclined to auburn. His beard was brown. He was as gentle and 
kind as a woman to those he loved. There was sometimes a softness and ten- 
derness about him that was very striking. 

Jackson was exceedingly fond of children, and seldom failed to win their 
love in return. A story is told of him that illustrates both his love of children 
and his distaste for pomp and show.. When encamped at F"redericksburg, he 
received a gift of a fine new cap, resplendent in a band of dazzling gold braid. 
This was one day greatly admired by a child of whom he was fond, whereupon 
Jackson took her on his knee, ripped the gold band off of his cap, bound it 
around the little one's curls, and sent her away delighted. 

Jackson was carefully temperate in his habits. On one occasion, when he 
was wet and fatigued, his physician gave him some whiskey. He made a wry 
face in swallowing it, and the doctor inquired if it was not good whiskey. " Oh, 
yes," he replied, " it's good. I like liquor ; that' s why I doii t drink it." 



374 



THOMAS JON A THAN J A CKSQN. 



One of the most curious peculiarities of Jackson was a fashion he had of 
raisingf his right hand aloft, and then letting it fall suddenly to his side. He 
often held his hand, sometimes both hands, thus aloft in battle, and his lips were 
seen to move, evidently in prayer. Not once, but many times, has the singular 
spectacle been presented of a commander sitting on his horse silently as his 
column moved before him, his hands raised to heaven, his eyes closed, his lips 
moving in prayer. At Chancellorsville. as he recognized the corpse of any of 
his veterans, he would check his horse, raise his hands to heaven, and utter a 
prayer over the dead body. 




HOUSE IN WHICH STONF.WAI.I, JACKSON fllKD, RICHMOND, \K. 



Jackson was a great hero and favorite throughout the South among both 
soldiers and people. They had the most implicit faith in his abilities, and the 
greatest love and reverence for his character. Their sentiments were well 
expressed in the prayer of old "Father Hubert," of Hays' Louisiana Brigade, 
who, in his prayer at the unveiling of the Jackson monument in New Orleans, 
said as his clima.x : "And Thou knowest, O Lord! that when Thou didst decide 
that the Confederacy should not succeed, Thou hadst first to remove Thy ser- 
vant, Stonewall Jackson." 




376 




JOHN PAUL JONES, 

AND THE GIA-NXS OK THE AMERICAN NAVY. 

HE origin of the American navy dates from the commencement 
of the struggle for national independence. Up to that time the 
colonies had looked to the mother country for protection on the 
seas. So the outbreak of the Revolution found them entirely 
without a navy. Their maritime interests were great, and their 
fishing craft and merchant vessels were numerous and were 
manned by singularly able and daring mariners. But fighting 
ships they had none, while their opponent was not only the 
greatest naval power of the world, but was doubtless, at sea, stronger than all 
others put together. England was therefore able not only to command the 
American coasts with her fleet, but also largely to thwart whatever feeble efforts 
toward the construction of a navy were made by the haggling and incompetent 
Continental Congress. Nevertheless the American navy did then come into 
existence, and wrought at least one deed as immortal in the history of the sea, 
as Bunker Hill in that of the war upon the land. 

In the fall of 1775, the building of thirteen war-cruisers was begun; but 
only six of them ever got to sea. Only one ship-of-the-line was built, the 
"America," and she was given to France before she was launched. During the 
whole war, a total of twenty small frigates and twenty-one sloops flew the 
American flae ; and fifteen of the former and ten of the latter were either 
captured or destroyed. What cockle-shells they were, and how slight in 
armament, compared with the floating fortresses of to-day, may be reckoned from 
the fact that twelve-pounders were their heaviest guns. Beside these, of course, 
there were many privateers, sent out to prey upon the enemy's commerce. 
These swift fishing craft ventured even to cruise along the very coast of 
England, and down to the time of the French alliance captured more than six 
hundred English vessels. 

In the annals of the regular navy, there are but three great captains' names : 
Wickes, Conyngham, and Jones. It was Lambert Wickes who, on his little 
sixteen gun " Reprisal," first bore the American war-flag to the shores of Europe. 



3/8 GIANTS OF THE NA VY. 

and made it a terror to the great power that claimed to "rule the waves." 
After a brilliant cruise the " Reprisal " went down, with all hands, in the summer 
of 1777, on the treacherous banks of Newfoundland. Then Gustavus Conyngham 
took up the work, with his "Surprise" and "Revenge," and that very summer 
so scourged the might of England in the North Sea and in the British Channel 
itself, that the ports were crowded with ships that dared not venture out, and 
tlie rates of marine insurance rose to fabulous figures. 

But the one splendid name of that era was that of a canny young Scotch- 
man, John Paul Jones. Eighteenth he stood on the list of captains commissioned 
by the Congress, but on the scroll of fame, for those times, first — and there is no 
second. Coming to Virginia in boyhood, he entered the mercantile marine. 
When the war broke out he offered his services to the Congress, and was made 
a captain. And in 1778 he was sent with the "Ranger," of eighteen guns, to 
follow where Wickes and Conyngham had led. He swept with his tiny craft up 
and down the Irish Channel, entered Whitehaven and burned the shipping at 
the docks ; captured off Carrickfergus the British war-sloop " Drake," larger 
than his own ship, and then made his way to Brest with all his prizes in tow. 

Next year he set out on his immortal cruise, with a squadron of five ships. 
His flagship was an old merchantman, the "Duras," fitted up for fighting and 
renamed the "Bon Homme Richard," in honor of Franklin and his " Poor 
Richard's Almanac." She was a clumsy affair, armed with thirty-two twelve- 
pounders and six old eighteen-pounders not fit for use, and manned by 380 men 
of every race, from New Englanders to Malays. The "Pallas" was also a 
merchantman transformed into a thirty-two gun frigate. The " Vengeance " and 
the "Cerf" were much smaller; quite insignificant. The "Alliance" was a 
new ship, built in Massachusetts for the navy, but unhappily commanded by a 
Frenchman named Landais, half fool, half knave. Indeed, all the vessels save 
the flagship were commanded by Frenchmen, who were openly insubordinate, 
refusing half the time to recognize the commodore's authorit)^ and often leaving 
him to cruise and fight alone. Yet the motley squadron did much execution 
along the shores of Britain. It all but captured the city of Leith, and entered 
H umber and destroyed much shipping. 

But the crowning glory came on September 23, 1779. On that immortal 
date Jones espied, off Flamborough Head, a fleet of forty British merchantmen, 
guarded by two frigates, bound for the Baltic. At once he gave chase. He 
had, besides his own ship, only the " Pallas " and the " Alliance," but they would 
be sufficient to capture the whole fleet. But the miserable Landais refused to 
obey the signal, and kept out of the action. So the fight began, two and two. 
Jones, with the " Bon Homme Richard," attacked the "Serapis," Captain Pear- 
son, and the " Pallas" engaged the " Countess of Scarborough." The "Sera- 
pis " had fifty guns and was much faster and stronger than Jones's ship. The 



JOHN PAUL JONES AND HIS FAMOUS VICTORY. 



379 



"Countess of Scarborough," on the other hand, was much inferior to the 
" Pallas " and proved an early victim. 

It was growing dark, on a cloudy evening, and the sea was smooth as a 
mill-pond, when the " Bon Homme Richard " and the " Serapis " began their 
awful duel. Both fired full broadsides at the same instant. Two of Jones's old 
eighteen-pounders burst, killing twelve men, and the others were at once aban- 
doned. So all through the fight, after that first volley, he had only his thirty-two 
twelve-pounders against the 
fifty guns — twenty of them 
eighteen-pounders, twenty 
nine-pounders, and ten six- 
pounders — of the "Serapis." 
For an hour they fought and 
manoeuvred, then came to- 
gether with a crash. An 
instant, the firing ceased. 
" Have you struck your 
colors?" demanded Pearson. 
" I have not yet begun to 
fight!" replied Jones. Then 
with his own hands Jones 
lashed the two ships together, 
and inseparably joined, their 
sides actually touching, they 
battled on. Solid shot and 
canister swept through both 
ships like hail, while musket- 
men on the decks and in the 
rigging exchanged storms of 
bullets. For an hour and a 
half the conflict raged. Then 
Landais came up with the 
"Alliance" and beran firino- 

o o 

equally on both. Jones ordered him to go to the other side of the " Serapis" 
and board, and his answer was to turn helm and go out of the fight altogether. 
Now the fighting ships were both afire, and both leaking and sinking. Most 
of the guns were disabled, and three-fourths of the men were killed or 
wounded. The gallant Pearson stood almost alone on the deck of the doomed 
"Serapis," not one of his men able to fight longer. Jones was as solitary on 
the "Bon Homme Richard," all his men still able-bodied being at the pumps, 
striving to keep the ship afloat. With his own hands he trained a gun upon 




PAUL JONES. 



3So GIANTS OF THE NA VY. 

the mainmast of the "Serapis," and cut it down; and then Pearson surren- 
dered. The "Pallas" and "Alliance" came up and took off the men, and in 
a few hours the two ships sank, still bound together in the clasp of death. 

This was not only one of the most desperate and deadly naval battles 
in history. Its moral effect was epoch-making. John Paul Jones was the 
hero of the day, and Europe showered honors upon him. The American flag 
was hailed as a rival to that of England on the seas, and all Europe was 
encouraged to unite against England and force her to abate her arrogant pre- 
tensions, and to accede to a more just and liberal code of international maritime 
law than had before prevailed. In view of this latter fact, this batde must be 
ranked among the three or four most important in the naval history of the 
world. It was this battle that inspired Catharine of Russia to enunciate the 
doctrine of the rights of neutrals in maridme affairs ; and the tardy acquiescence 
of England, eighty years later, in that now universal principle, was brought 
about by the blow struck by John Paul Jones off Flamborough Head. 

There were no other naval operations of importance during the Revolution, 
save those of the French fleet at Yorktown. But soon after the declaration of 
peace, new complications arose, threatening a war at sea. England and France 
were fighting each other, and commerce was therefore diverted to the shipping 
of other nations. A very large share of Europe's carrying trade was done by 
American vessels. But these were between two fires. England insisted that 
she had a right to stop and search American ships and take from them all 
sailors of English birth ; actually taking whom she pleased ; and France made 
free to seize any American ships she pleased, under the pretext that there were 
English goods aboard ; and when she captured an English ship and found on. 
board an American seaman who had been impressed, instead of treating him 
as a prisoner of war, like the others, she hanged him as a pirate. 

Naturally indignation rose high, and preparations were made for war with 
France. In July, 1 798, the three famous frigates, the "Constellation," the "United 
States," and the " Constitution," best known as "Old Ironsides," were sent to sea, 
and Congress authorized the navy to be increased to include six frigates, twelve 
sloops, and six smaller- craft. Among the ofiicers commissioned, were the illus- 
trious Bainbridge, Hull, Decatur, Rodgers, and Stewart. Actual hostilities soon 
began. French piratical cruisers were captured, and an American squadron 
sailed for the West Indies to deal with the French privateers that abounded 
there, in which work it was generally successful. In January, 1799, Congress 
voted a million dollars, for building six ships of the line and six sloops. Soon 
after, on February 9, occurred the first engagement between vessels of the 
American and French navies. The " Constellation," Captain Truxton, over- 
hauled " L'Insurgente," at St. Kitts, in the West Indies, and after a fight of an 
hour and a quarter forced her to. surrender. The " Constellation " had three 



SUPPRESSING THE BARBARY PIRATES. 381 

men killed and one wounded ; " L'Insurgente " twenty killed and forty-six 
wounded. 

Again, on February i, 1800, Truxton with the " Constellation " came up, at 
Guadeloupe, with the French Frigate " La Vengeance." After chasing her two 
days he brought on an action. The two ships fought all night. In the 
morning, "La Vengeance," completely silenced and shattered, drew away and 
escaped to Curacoa, where she was condemned as unfit for further service. 
The " Constellation " was little injured save in her rigging. For his gallantry, 
Truxton received a gold medal from Congress. Later in that year there 
were some minor engagements, in which Americans were successful. 

By the spring of 1801, friendly relations with France were restored. The 
President was accordingly authorized to dispose of all the navy, save thirteen 
ships, six of which were to be kept constantly in commission, and to dismiss 
from the service all officers save nine captains, thirty-six lieutenants, and one 
hundred and fifty midshipmen. At about this time ground was purchased and 
navy-yards established at Portsmouth, Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Wash- 
ington and Norfolk, and half a million dollars was appropriated for the 
completion of six seventy-four gun ships. 

Now came on real war. For many years the pirate ships of the Barbary 
States, Algeria and Tripoli, had been the scourge of the Mediterranean. The 
commerce of every land had suffered. European powers did not venture to 
suppress the evil, but some of them basely purchased immunity by paying 
tribute to the pirates. America, too, at first followed this humiliating course, 
actually thus paying millions of dollars. In September, 1800, Captain Bainbridge 
went with the frigate " George Washington " to bear to the Dey of Algeria the 
annual tribute. The Dey took the money, and then impressed Bainbridge and 
his ship into his own service for a time, to go on an errand to Constantinople. 
Bainbridge reported this to Congress, adding, " I hope I shall never again be 
sent with tribute, unless to deliver it from the mouth of our cannon." However, 
Bainbridge was received courteously at Constantinople, and his ship was the 
first to display the American flag there. 

Captain Dale was sent with a squadron to the Mediterranean in 1801, to 
repress the pirates of Tripoli. One of his ships, the schooner " Experiment," 
captured a Tripolitan cruiser, and this checked for a time the ardor of the pirates. 
But open war was soon declared between the two countries, and Congress 
authorized the sending of a larger fleet to the Mediterranean. The gallant 
Truxton was offered the command of it, but declined because the cheese-paring 
Administration was too parsimonious to allow him a proper staff of subordinates. 
Thereupon he was dismissed from the service, and Captain Morris sent in his 
place. But false economy had so enfeebled the navy that the fleet was able to 
do little. One Tripolitan ship was captured, however, and another destroyed. 



382 GIANTS OF THE NA VY. 

Then the Government woke up, and began building new ships, and sent 
another squadron over, led by Preble with the " Constitution." He went first 
to Morocco, whose Sultan at once sued for peace ; and then proceeded to 
Tripoli. Here he found that the frigate "Philadelphia," with Bainbridge and 
three hundred men aboard, had been captured and was being refitted by the 
Tripolitans for their own use. Decatur, commanding the " Enterprise," under 
Preble, determined upon a bold counter-stroke. Taking a small vessel, the 
" Intrepid," which he had captured from Tripoli, he sailed boldly into the 
harbor, flying the Tripolitan flag and pretending to be a merchant of that 
country. Running alongside the " Philadelphia," he boarded her, set her afire, 
and sailed away in safety, though amid a storm of shot and shell. The " Phila- 
delphia " was burned to the water's edge. 

Nothing more was done at the time, however, save to keep up a blockade, 
and Bainbridge and his men remained in captivity. In August, 1804, Preble and 
Decatur made a vigorous attack upon the harbor, and destroyed two and 
captured three vessels. A few days later other attacks were made. Then a 
new squadron under Commodore Barron came to the scene, and Preble was 
superseded. No other naval operations of importance occurred, and peace was 
finally concluded in 1805. 

Troubles with England now grew more serious. That country persisted in 
searching American ships and taking from them all whom she chose to call 
deserters from the British service. And so the two powers drifted into the war 
of 181 2. In that struggle, the Americans were badly worsted on land, but won 
victories of the first magnitude on the lakes and ocean. America had only 
nine frigates and a score of smaller craft, while England had a hundred ships of 
the line. Yet the honors of the war on the sea rested with the former. Her 
triumphs startled the world. The destruction of the "Guerriere" by the 
"Constitution," Captain Hull, marked an epoch in naval histor)^ Then the 
" United States," Captain Decatur, vanquished the " Macedonian ;" the 
"Wasp," Captain Jones, the "Frolic ;" the "Constitution," Captain Bainbridge, 
the "Java;" and the " Hornet" the "Peacock." On Lake Erie, Commodore 
Perry won a great victory, which he announced in the famous message, " We 
have met the enemy, and they are ours." Equally brilliant was the victory of 
MacDonough on Lake Champlain. The most deplorable reverse was the 
destruction of the "Chesapeake" by the British ship " Shannon," the "Chesa- 
peake's" commander, Lawrence, losing his life, but winning fame through his 
dying words, " Don't give up the ship !" 

The conflicts of this war are more fully detailed elsewhere in this volume. 
It is needful here only to mention them briefly, as we have done. The cause of 
the surprising successes of the Americans may well be explained, however. 
It was due to that very inventive ingenuity that has made the history of the 



384 GIANTS OF THE NAVY. 

world's industrial progress so largely a mere chronicle of "Yankee notions." 
The Americans had invented and were using sights on their cannon. That was 
all. But the result was that their aim was far more accurate and their fire far 
more effective than that of their opponents. This advantage, added to courage 
and skill in seamanship equal to any the world had known, gave them their 
victory. 

This war was ended in February, 181 5, and a month later another was 
begun. This was against the Dey of Algeria, who had broken the peace and 
seized an American ship, despite the fact that America had continued down to 
this time to pay tribute to him. It was now determined to make an end of the 
business ; so Bainbridge was sent, as he had requested, to deliver the final 
tribute from his cannons' mouths. Before he got there, however, Decatur, did 
the work. He captured an Algerine vessel ; sailed into port and dictated an 
honorable peace ; and then imposed like terms on Tripoli and Tunis, thus 
ending the tyranny of the Barbary States over the commerce of the world. 

Thereafter for many years the navy had not much to do. Some vessels were 
used for purposes of exploration and research, and much was thereby added to 
the scientific knowledge of the world. During the Mexican war, naval opera 
tions were unimportant. But in 1846 complications with Japan were begun. 
In that year two ships were sent to the Island empire, on an errand of peaceful 
negotiation, which proved fruitless. Three years later another went, on a 
sterner errand, and rescued at the cannon's mouth a number of shipwrecked 
American sailors who had been thrown into captivit)^ 

Finally the task of "op.ening Japan" to intercourse with the rest of the 
world, a task no other power had ventured to assume, was undertaken by 
America. On November 24, 1852, Commodore Perry set sail thither, with a 
powerful fleet. His commission \vas to "open Japan"; by peaceful diplomacy 
if he could, by force of arms if he must. The simple show of force was 
sufficient, and in 1854, he returned in triumph, bearing a treaty with Japan. 

The most extended and important services of the United States navy were 
performed during the War of the Rebellion At the outbreak of that conflict, 
in 1 86 1, the whole navy comprised only forty-two vessels in commission. 
Nearly all of these were scattered In distant parts of the world, where they had 
been purposely sent by the conspirators at Washington. Most of those that 
remained were destroyed in port, so that there was actually for a time only one 
serviceable war-ship on the North Atlantic coast. But building and purchase 
soon increased the navy, so that before the end of the year it numbered two 
hundred and sixty-four, and was able to blockade all the ports of the Southern 
Confederacy. They were a motley set, vessels of every imaginable type, ferry- 
boats and freight steamers, even, being pressed into use ; but they served. 

The first important naval action was that at Hatteras Inlet, in August, 1861. 



PASSING THE FORTS. 385 

There Commodore Stringham, with a fleet of steam and saiHng craft, bombarded 
a series of powerful forts and forced them to surrender, without the loss of a single 
man aboard the ships. Next came the storming of Port Royal. At the end of 
October Commodore Dupont and Commander Rodgers went thither with a 
strong squadron. They entered the harbor, and formed with their ships an 
ellipse, which kept constantly revolving, opposite the forts, and constantly pouring 
in a murderous fire. It was earthworks on land agfainst old-fashioned wooden 
ships on the water ; but the ships won, and the forts surrendered. A small 
flotilla of rebel gunboats came to the assistance of the forts, but were quickly 
repulsed by the heavy fire from the ships. 

The next year saw much naval activity in many quarters. The blockade 
of all Southern ports was rigorously maintained, and there were some exciting 
engagements between the national ships and blockade runners. On the 
Cumberland, Ohio, Tennessee and Mississippi Rivers the gunboats of Foote 
and Porter greatly aided the land forces, in the campaigns against Fort Henry 
and Fort Donelson, at Island No. 10, and Vicksburg. Roanoke Island and 
New Berne, on the Carolina coast, were taken by a combined naval and military 
expedition. 

One of the most striking events of the war was the entrance of the Mississippi 
and capture of New Orleans by Admiral Farragut. He had a fleet of forty 
vessels, all told. Opposed to him were two great and strong land forts, Jackson 
and St. Philip, one on each side of the river, mounting two hundred and twenty- 
five guns. From one to the other stretched a ponderous iron chain, completely 
barring the passage, and beyond this was a fleet of iron-clad gun-boats, fire- 
ships, etc. Military and naval authorities scouted the idea that Farragut's 
wooden ships could ever fight their way through. But Farragut quietly scouted 
the authorities. Making his way up to within range of the forts he began a 
bombardment. On the first day his guns threw 2000 shells at the enemy. 
A huge fire-raft was sent against him, but his ships avoided it and it passed 
harmlessly by. Another was sent down that night, a floating mountain of flame. 
But one of Farragut's captains deliberately ran his ship into it, turned a hose 
upon it, and towed it out of the way ! 

For a week the tremendous bombardment was kept up, 16,800 shells being 
thrown at the forts. Then Farragut cut the chain, and started to run the fiery 
gauntlet of the forts with his fleet. Before daylight one morning the mortar- 
Ijoats opened a furious fire, under cover of which the ships steamed straight up 
the river. The forts opened on them with every gun, a perfect storm of shot 
and shell, and the ships replied with full broadsides. Five hundred cannon 
were thundering. One ship was disabled and dropped back. The rest swept 
on in a cloud of flame. Before they were past the forts, fire-ships came down 
upon them, and iron-clad gunboats attacked them. The "Varuna," Captain 

23 



386 



GIANTS OF THE NA VY. 



Boggs, was surrounded by five rebel gunboats, and sank them all. As the last 
of them sank, a sixth, a huge iron-clad ram, came rushing upon the " Varuna." 
Boggs saw he could not escape it, so he turned the "Varuna " so as to receive 
the blow squarely amidships. The ram crushed her like an egg-shell, and in a 
few minutes she sank. But her fearful broadsides, at such close range, riddled 
the ram, and the two went down together. In an hour and a half, eleven rebel 
gunboats were sent to the bottom, and the fleet was past the forts. Next 




SINKING OF THE ALABAMA. 



morning Farragut raised the national flag above the captured city of New 
Orleans. 

This tremendous conflict was not, however, the most significant of that 
year. There was another which, in a single hour, revolutionized the art of 
naval warfare. When, at the outbreak of the war, the Norfolk Navy-yard had 
been destroyed to keep it from falling into rebel hands, one ship partially escaped 
the flames. This was the great frigate " Merrimac," probably the finest ship in 



THE "MONITOR" AND "MERRLMAC" 387 

the whole navy. The Confederates took her hull, which remained uninjured, 
and covered it completely with a sloping roof of iron plates four inches thick, 
backed with heavy timbers, put a great iron ram at her bow, and fitted her with 
large guns and powerful engines. Then, to protect her further, she was coated 
thickly with tallow and plumbago. She was regarded as entirely invulnerable 
to cannon-shot, and her builders believed she would easily destroy all ships sent 
against her and place New York and all Northern seaports at the mercy of her 
guns. At the same time a curious little craft was built, hurriedly enough, in 
New York. It was designed by John Ericsson, and was called the " Monitor." 
It consisted of a hull nearly all submerged, its flat iron deck only a few inches 
above the water, and upon this a circular iron tower, which was turned round and 
round by machinery and which carried two large guns. Naval experts laughed 
at the "cheese-box on a plank," as they called it, and thought it unworthy of 
serious consideration. 

A REVOLUTION IN NAVAL WARFARE. 

At noon of Saturday, March 8, the mighty " Merrimac," a floating fortress 
of iron, came down the Elizabeth River to where the National fleet lay in 
Hampton Roads. The frigate " Congress " fired upon her, but she paid no 
attention to it, but moved on to the sloop-of-war " Cumberland," crushed her side 
in with a blow of her ram, riddled her with cannon-balls, and sent her to the 
bottom. The solid shot from the " Cumberland's " ten-inch guns glanced from 
the " Merrimac's " armor, harmless as so many peas. Then the monster turned 
back to the "Congress" and destroyed her. Next she attacked the frigate 
" Minnesota " and drove her aground, and then retired for the night, intending 
the next day to return, destroy the entire fleet, and proceed northward to 
bombard New York. 

That night the "Monitor" arrived. She had been hurriedly completed. 
She had come down from New York in a storm, and was leaking and her 
machinery was out of order. She was not in condition for service. But she 
was all that lay between the " Merrimac " and the boundless destruction at 
which she aimed. So she anchored at the side of the " Minnesota " and waited 
for daylight. It came, a beautiful Sunday morning ; and down came the huge 
"Merrimac" to continue her deadly work. Out steamed the tiny "Monitor" 
to meet her. The " Merrimac " sought to ignore her, and attacked the " Minne- 
sota." But the "Monitor" would not be ignored. Captain Worden ran her 
alongside the "Merrimac," so that they almost touched, and hurled his i6o-lb. 
shot at the iron monster as rapidly as the two guns could be worked. 
Those shots, at that range, told, as all the broadsides of the frigates had not. 
The "Merrimac's" armor began to yield, while her own firing had no effect 
upon the " Monitor." It was seldom she could hit the little craft at all, and 
when she did the shots glanced off without harm. Five times she tried ta 



388 T"?rTT^»" GIANTS OF THE NA VY. ^^^^^H^^H 

ram the " Monitor," but the latter eluded her. A sixth time she tried it, and 
the " Monitor " stood still and let her come on. The great iron beak that 
had crushed in the side of the "Cumberland " merely glanced on the "Moni- 
tor's " armor and glided upon her deck. The "Merrimac" was so lifted 
and tilted as to expose the unarmored part of her hull to the " Monitor's " 
deadly fire, while the "Monitor" quickly slid out from under her, uninjured. 
Then the " Merrimac " retreated up the river, and her career was ended. She 
was a mere wreck. But the " Monitor," though struck by twenty-two heavy 
shots, was practically uninjured. The only man hurt on the "Monitor" was 
the gallant Captain Worden. He was looking through the peep-hole when one 
of the " Merrimac's" last shots struck squarely just outside. He was stunned 
by the shock and half-blinded by splinters ; but his first words on regaining 
consciousness were, " Have we saved the ' Minnesota ' ? " 

The "Monitor" had saved the "Minnesota," and all the rest of the fleet, 
and probably many Northern cities. But, more than that, she had, in that grim 
duel, revolutionized naval warfare. In that hour England saw her great ships 
of the line condemned. The splendid frigates, with their tiers of guns, were 
thenceforth out of date and worthless. The "cheese-box on a plank" in a 
single day had vanquished all the navies of the world. 

The success of Farragut in passing the Mississippi forts led Dupont, in 
April, 1863, to attempt in like manner to enter Charleston harbor ; but in vain. 
The fire from the forts was too fierce, and his fleet was forced to fall back with 
heavy losses. But in August, 1864, Farragut repeated his former exploit at 
Mobile. Forming his ships in line of battle, he stood in the rigging of the 
" Hartford," glass in hand, and directed their movements. As Dupont had done 
at Port Royal, he swept round and round in a fiery ellipse. At a critical point in 
the battle the lookout reported, " Torpedoes ahead !" A cry arose to stop the ship. 
" Go ahead ! Damn the torpedoes !" roared the great Admiral, and the ship 
went on. Then the huge iron ram "Tennessee" came forward, to crush them 
as the "Merrimac" had crushed the "Cumberland." But Farragut, with 
sublime audacity, turned the bow of his wooden ship upon her and ran her 
down. Thus the Mobile forts were silenced and the harbor cleared. Nor 
must the storming of Fort Fisher be forgotten. The first attack was made in 
December, 1864. Admiral Porter bombarded the place furiously, and then 
General Butler attempted to take it with land forces. He failed, and returned 
to Fortress Monroe, saying the place could not be taken. But Porter thought 
otherwise, and remained at his post with his fleet. General Terry then went 
down with an army, Porter renewed the bombardment, the fort was captured, 
and the last port of the Confederacy was closed. 

While the National navy was thus carrying all before it along the coast, 
the Confederates were active elsewhere. Their swift, armed cruisers, fitted out 



SINKING OF THE ALABAMA. 389 

in English ports, scoured the seas and preyed upon American commerce eveiy- 
where, until the American merchant flag was almost banished from the ocean. 
The most famous of all these cruisers was the "Alabama," commanded by 
Raphael Semmes. During her career she destroyed more than ten million 
dollars' worth of American shipping. For a long time her speed and the skill 
and daring of her commander kept her out of the hands of the American navy. 
But at last, in June, 1864, Captain Winslow, with the ship " Kearsarge," came 
up with her in the neutral harbor of Cherbourg, France. Determined to make 
an end of her, he waited, just outside the harbor, for her to come out. Semmes 
soon accepted the challenge, and the duel occurred on Sunday, June 19. The 
shore was crowded with spectators, and many yachts and other craft came out, 
bearing hundreds anxious to see the battle. The vessels were not far from 
equal in strength. But the " Kearsarge " had two huge eleven-inch pivot guns, 
that made awful havoc on the "Alabama." The "Alabama," on the other 
hand, had more guns than the " Kearsarge." But the famous cruiser's time 
had come. As the two ships slowly circled round and round, keeping up a 
constant fire, every shot from the " Kearsarge " seemed to find its mark, while 
those of the "Alabama" went wide. And soon the "Alabama" sank, leaving 
the "Kearsarge " scarcely injured. 

A volume might be filled with accounts of notable exploits of the navy 
■which there is not room even to mention here. But one more must be named, 
so daring and so novel was it. In April, 1864, the great iron-clad ram, "Albe- 
marle," was completed by the Confederates and sent forth to drive the National 
vessels from the sounds and harbors of the North Carolina coast. She came 
down the Roanoke River and boldly attacked the fleet, destroying one ship at 
the first onset and damaging others, while showing herself almost invulnerable. 
It was feared that she would actually succeed in raising the blockade, and 
extraordinary efforts w^ere made to destroy her, but without avail. 

At last the job was undertaken by a young officer. Lieutenant Gushing, 
who had already distinguished himself by his daring. He took a small steam 
launch, manned by himself and fifteen others, armed with a howitzer, and 
carrying a large torpedo. The "Albemarle" was at her dock at Plymouth, 
some miles up the river, and both banks of the narrow stream were closely 
lined with pickets and batteries. On a dark, stormy night the launch steamed 
boldly up the river and got within a short distance of the "Albemarle" before 
it was seen by the pickets. Instantly the alarm was given, and a hail of bullets 
fell upon the launch, doing, however, little harm. Cushing headed straight for 
the huge iron-clad, shouting at the top of his voice, in bravado, " Get off the 
ram ! We're going to blow you up ! " Running the launch up till its bow 
touched the side of the "Albemarle," he thrust the torpedo, at the end of a 
pole, under the latter and fired it. The explosion wrecked the " Albemarle " 



390 GIANTS OF THE NA VY. 

and sank her. The launch was also wrecked, and the sixteen men took to the 
water and sought to escape by swimming. All were, however, captured by the 
Confederates, save four. Of these, two were drowned, and the other two — 
one of them being Gushing himself — reached the other shore and got safely 
back to the fleet. 

We have said that in the spring of 1861 there were only 42 vessels in com« 
mission in the navy. There were also 27 serviceable ships not in commission, 
and 2 1 unserviceable, or 90 in all. During the four years of the war there were 
built and added to the navy 125 unarmored and 68 armored vessels, most of the 
latter being of the "Monitor" type. A few figures regarding some of the en- 
gagements will give a vivid idea of the manner in which the ships fought. In 
the futile attack of the iron-clads on the forts in Charleston harbor, April 7, 1 863, 
nine vessels took part, using 23 guns and firing 139 times, at from 500 to 2100 
yards range. They hit Fort Wagner twice, Fort Moultrie 12 times, and Fort 
Sumter 55 times, doing little damage. Against them the forts used j'j guns, 
firing 2229 times, and hitting the vessels 520 times, but doing little damage 
except to one monitor, which was sunk. In the second bombardment of Fort 
Fisher 21,716 projectiles, solid shot and shell, were thrown by the fleet. 

But the most important thing achieved was the entire transformation effected 
in naval science. Hitherto the war-ship had been simply an armed merchant- 
ship, propelled by sails or, latterly, by steam, carrying a large number of small 
guns. American inventiveness made it, after the duel of the "Monitor" and 
'■ Merrimac," a floating fortress of iron or steel, carrying a few enormously heavy 
guns. The glory of the old line-of-battle ship, with three or four tiers of guns 
on each side and a bisf cloud of canvas overhead, firino- rattlinof broadsides, and 
manoeuvring to get and hold the weather-gauge of the enemy — all that was 
relegated to the past forever. In its place came the engine of war, with little 
pomp and circumstance, but with all the resources of science shut within its ugly, 
black iron hull. 

John Paul Jones, with his " Bon Homme Richard," struck the blow that 
made universal the law of neutrals' rights. Hull, with the " Constitution," send- 
ing a British frigate to the bottom, showed what Yankee ingenuity in sighting 
guns could do. Ericsson and \Vorden, with the "Monitor," sent wooden navies 
to the hulk-yard and ushered in the era of iron and steel fighting-engines. 
These are the three great naval events of a century. 

One of the most thrilling events in naval history occurred in a time of 
peace. It was in the harbor of Apia, Samoa, in March, 1889. A great storm 
struck the shipping and destroyed nearly every vessel there. Three German 
war-ships were wrecked. One English war-ship, by herculean efforts, was 
saved. Two American war-ships were wrecked, and one was saved after being 
run on the beach. This was the " Nipsic." The wrecked vessels were the 
23 



THE STORM IN APIA HARBOR. 391 

"Trenton" and the "Vandalia." The combined strength of their engines and 
anchors was not enough to keep them from being driven upon the fateful reefs. 
The "Vandaha" was already stranded and pounding to pieces, and the 
"Trenton" was drifting down upon her. "Suddenly," says a witness of the 
scene, "the Stars and Stripes were seen flying from the gaff of the 'Trenton.' 
Previous to this no vessel in the harbor bad raised a flag, as the storm was 
raging so furiously at sunrise that that ceremony was neglected. It seemed now 
as if the gallant ship knew she was doomed, and had determined to go down 
with the flag of her country floating above the storm. Presently the last faint 
ray of daylight faded away, and night came down upon the awful scene. The 
storm was still raging with as much fury as at any time during the day. The 
poor creatures who had been clinging for hours to the rigging of the ' Vandalia ' 
were bruised and bleeding, but they held on with the desperation of men who 
hang by a thread between life and death. The ropes had cut the flesh of their 
arms and legs, and their eyes were blinded by the salt spray which swept over 
them. Weak and exhausted as they were, they would be unable to stand the 
terrible strain much longer. They looked down upon the angry water below 
them, and knew that they had no strength left to battle with the waves. Their 
final hour seemed to be upon them. The great black hull of the ' Trenton ' 
could be seen through the darkness, almost ready to crush into the stranded 
* Vandalia ' and grind her to atoms. Suddenly a shout was borne across the 
waters. The 'Trenton' was cheering the 'Vandalia.' The sound of 450 
voices broke upon the air and was heard above the roar of the tempest. ' Three 
cheers for the "Vandalia ! " ' was the cry that warmed the hearts of the dying 
men in the rigging. The shout died away upon the storm, and there arose from 
the quivering masts of the sunken ship a response so feeble that it was scarcely 
heard on shore. The men who felt that they were looking death in the face 
aroused themselves to the effort and united in a faint cheer to the flagship. 
Those who were standing on shore listened in silence, for that feeble cry was 
the saddest they had ever heard. Every heart was melted to pity. ' God help 
them ! ' was passed from one man to another. The sound of music next came 
across the water. The ' Trenton's ' band was playing ' The Star Spangled 
Banner.' The thousand men on sea and shore had never before heard strains 
of music at such a time as this." And so the good ships went to wreck, and 
many a life was lost ; but a standard of endurance and of valor was there set up 
that shall command the reverence and wonder of the world as long as time shall 
endure. 

During fifteen years of peace, following the War of the Rebellion, the navy 
was much neglected. No new ships were built, and the old ones fell into decay. 
In 1 88 1, however, William H. Hunt, Secretary of the Navy appointed an 
Advisory Board to plan the building of a new navy adequate to the needs of the 




Q 



i 



THE NEW NAVY. 393 

nation. From the deliberations of this Board and its successof, appointed 
by Secretary Chandler, sprang the splendid new fleet. The Board recom- 
mended the construction of four steel vessels : the "Chicago," of 4500 tons 
displacement; the "Boston" and "Atlanta," of 3189 tons displacement each, 
and the " Dolphin," of 1485 tons displacement. The dates of the acts author- 
izing these vessels vi^ere August 5, 1882, and March 3, 1883, and the contracts 
•were taken for all four vessels by John Roach & Sons in July, 1883. 

The pioneer of the new steel navy was the " Dolphin." Although classed 
as a " dispatch boat " in the Navy Register, she has well earned the title of a 
first-class cruiser, and would be so classed if she had the tonnage displacement, 
since she made a most successful cruise around the world, traversing c 2,000 
miles of sea without a single mishap. The " Dolphin " was launched April 21, 
and she was finished in November, 1884, and although no material changes 
were made in her she was kept in continuous service for nearly six years'. 
After her trip around Cape Horn, and after ten months hard cruising, she was 
thoroughly surveyed, and there was not a plate displaced, nor a rivet loosened, 
nor a timber strained, nor a spar out of gear. At the end of her cruise around 
the world she was pronounced "the stanchest dispatch-boat in any navy of the 
■world." 

The " Dolphin " is a single-screw vessel of the following dimensions : 
Length over all, 265^ feet; breadth of beam, 32 feet; mean draught, 141^ 
feet ; displacement, 1485 tons. Her armament consists of two four-inch rapid- 
firing guns ; two six-pounder rapid-firing guns ; four forty-seven-rnillimeter 
Hotchkiss revolving cannon, and two Catling guns. She is also fitted with 
torpedo tubes. Her cost, exclusive of her guns, was $315,000. Her comple- 
ment of crew consists of 10 officers and 98 enlisted men. 

The first four vessels were called the "A, B, C, and D of the New Navy," 
because of the first letters of their names — the " Atlanta," " Boston," " Chicago," 
and "Dolphin." The "Atlanta" and "Boston" are sister ships — that is, they 
were built from the same designs and their plates, etc., were moulded from the 
same patterns and they carry the same armament — hence a description of one 
is a description of the other. They followed the " Dolphin " in service, the 
"Atlanta" being launched on October 9, 1884, and the " Boston " on December 
4, 1884. The "Atlanta" cost $619,000 and the "Boston" $617,000. The 
official description of these vessels is that they "are central superstructure, 
single-deck, steel cruisers." Their dimensions are : Length over all, 283 feet ; 
breadth of beam, 42 feet ; mean draught, 1 7 feet ; displacement, 3 1 89 tons ; 
sail area, 10,400 square feet. The armament of each consists of two eight-inch 
and six six-inch breech-loading rifles ; two six-pounder, two two-pounder, and two 
one-pounder rapid-firing guns ; two 47-millimeter and two 37-millimeter Hotch- 
kiss revolving cannon, two Catling guns, and a set of torpedo-firing tubes. 



394 GIANTS OF THE NA VY. 

Larger and finer still Is the " Chicago," the flagship of the fleet, which was 
launched on December 5, 1885. She was the first vessel of the navy to have A 
heavy guns mounted in half tvirrets, her four eight-inch cannon being carried on 
the spar-deck in half turrets built out from the ship's side, the guns being 
twenty-four and a-half feet above the water and together commanding the entire 
horizon. There are six six-inch guns in the broadside ports of the gun-deck 
and a six-inch gun on each bow. There are also two five-inch guns aft in the 
after portion of the cabin. Her secondary battery is two Catlings, two six- 
pounders, two one-pounders, two 47-millimeter revolving cannon, and two 
37-millimeter revolving cannon. 

This auspicious start being made, the work of building the new navy went 
steadily on. Next came the protected cruisers "Baltimore," "Charleston," 
" Newark," " San Francisco," and "Philadelphia," big steel ships, costing from 
■ a million to nearly a million and a half dollars each. Much smaller cruisers, or 
gunboats, were the "Yorktown," "Concord," and "Bennington," and, smallest 
of all, the " Petrel." All these ships, though varying in size, are of the same 
general type. They are not heavily armored, and are not regarded as regular 
batde-ships, yet could doubtless give a good account of themselves in any 
conflict. They are chiefly intended, however, as auxiliaries to the real fighters, 
and as cruisers, commerce destroyers, etc. 

The "Vesuvius," launched in April, 1888, is a "dynamite cruiser," a 
small, swift vessel, carrying three huge guns, each of fifteen inches bore, pointing 
directly forward and upward. From these, charges of dynamite are to be fired 
by compressed air. The " Cushing " is a swift torpedo boat, with three tubes 
for discharging the deadly missiles. It was launched in 1890, and named after 
the intrepid destroyer of the "Albemarle," whose feat has already been 
described. The "Stiletto" is a very small, wooden torpedo boat, of very 
great speed. 

The new navy also contains a number of vessels intended for coast-defense, 
heavily armored for hard fighting. The " Monterey " is a vessel of the 
"Monitor" type invented by Ericsson. It has two turrets, or barbettes, each 
carrying two twelve-inch guns, and protected by from eleven to thirteen inches 
of armor. The bow is provided with a ram. The " Puritan " is a vessel of 
similar design, with fourteen inches of armor. Besides the four big guns there 
is a secondary battery of twelve rapid-firing guns, four Hotchkiss revolving 
cannon, and four Catling guns. The " Miantonomah " is another double- 
turreted monitor. Her four ten-inch rifles have an effective range of thirteen 
miles, and she has a powerful secondary battery. Her big guns can send a five 
hundred-pound bolt of metal through twenty inches of armor, and she is herself 
heavily armored. This is a singularly powerful battle-ship, and would probably 



GREAT ARMORED WAR SHIPS. 



395 



prove a match for any war-ship in the world. Several similar vessels are now 
under construction. 

The " Maine " is a heavily-armored cruiser, and while intended for sea- 
going, is really a battle-ship. It has eleven inches of armor and carries four 
ten-inch rifles, besides numerous smaller guns. The "Texas " is a similar ship. 
The "Detroit," "Montgomery," and " Marblehead," not yet completed, are 
small, partially armored cruisers. The "New York" is a mighty armored 
cruiser, believed to surpass any other ship ever built in the combination of offen- 




"CHICAGO," U. S N., ONE OF THE NEW "WHITE SQUADRON" WAR SHIPS. 



sive and defensive power, coal endurance, and speed. She is 380 feet 6]4 inches 
long; steams 20 knots per hour; can go 13,000 miles without coaling; has 
from six to eight inches of armor, and carries six eight-inch and twelve four-inch 
rifles, and numerous smaller guns. 

The " Raleigh " and " Cincinnati " are protected cruisers of medium size. 
There are several other cruisers, not yet named, especially designed as com- 
merce-destroyers, having great speed, and being made to look as much like 
merchant-ships as possible. Other gunboats and battle-ships are also being 
built ; one practice cruiser, intended for a school-ship, and a harbor-defense 



396 GIANTS OF THE NA VY. 

ram, carrying no guns, but provided with a particularly ugly beak at the bow. 
Altogether, the new navy, built or building, down to the present date comprises 
thirteen armored battle-ships, seventeen unarmored but " protected " cruisers, 
and six gunboats, all of them fully equal to any ships of their class in the 
world. 

In scarcely any department of human industry are the changes produced 
by the progress of civilization more strikingly seen than in the navy. When 
America was discovered, the galleon and the caravel were the standard war- 
ships of the world — clumsy wooden tubs, towering high in air, propelled by 
sails and even oars, with a large number of small cannons, and men armed 
with muskets and cross-bows. Such was the famed Armada, "that great fleet 
invincible," that was vanquished by the smaller, lighter crafts of Britain. Four 
hundred years have passed, and what is the war-ship of to-day? A low-lying 
hulk of iron and steel ; armed with a few big guns, one of which throws a 
heavier .shot than a galleon's whole broadside ; driven resistlessly through the 
water by mighty steam engines ; lighted and steered by electric apparatus, and 
using an electric search-light that makes midnight as bright as day. All the 
triumphs of science and mechanic arts have contributed to the perfection of 
these dreadful sea monsters, a single one of which could have destroyed the 
whole Armada in an hour, and laughed to scorn the might of Nelson InTrafalgar 
Bay. What the locomotive is to the stage-coach, that is the " Miantonomah " 
or the " New York " to the " San Philip " or the " Revenge." 



OLIVER H. PERRY, 

THE HERO OF" THE BATTLE OE LAKE ERIE. 




'MONG the " Giants of the American Navy " there are few 
more remarkable than the commander who fought the sin- 
gular but glorious battle of Lake Erie, in September, 1813. 
Oliver Hazard Perry was a Rhode Island boy, born in 
1785. His mother, Sarah Alexander, was noted for her 
strength of character and intellect, and her children were 
trained with rare ability. She taught him how and what 
to read, told him stories of the deeds of her military ances- 
O)' tors, and "fitted him to command others by teaching him early 
to obey." After the battle on Lake Erie, when the country was 
ringing with Perry's praises, some Rhode Island farmers, who knew 
his mother well, insisted that it was " Mrs. Perry's victory." 

Perry entered the navy as a midshipman when only fourteen. 
He gave the details of his profession the most thorough study, and by incessant 
training of his crews, and practicing his ships in the various evolutions, he 
brought them up to a wonderful degree of efficiency. In the years preceding 
the War of 181 2 he was in command of the Newport flotilla of gunboats ; and 
he practiced sham fights by dividing his fleet into two squadrons, manoeuvering 
them as if in battle, and thus acquired the ability to take advantage of critical 
moments and situations. 

When war against England was at last declared. Perry applied repeatedly 
for a sea command, but, being disappointed, finally offered his services to Com- 
modore Chauncey, on the lakes. There he had to begin by building his ships. 
The shores of Lake Erie were a wilderness. The squadron was to be built 
from the trees standing in the forest. Traveling to Lake Erie in sleighs, he 
met there a party of ship carpenters from Philadelphia, and after months of the 
most incessant toil, they constructed the little fleet of nine vessels with which 
Perry was to meet the enemy. He had to create not only his ships but the 
force to man them. While the vessels were being built he was drilling his men, 
a collection of some five hundred, many of whom had never seen salt water. 

397 



398 OLIVER H. PERRY. 

Five months of his excellent training converted them into thoroughly drilled 
artillerists. 

While Perry was building his ships, the English commander, Commodore 
Barclay, was likewise building the fleet which was to encounter them. By 
Auo-ust both were ready, and after some manoeuvering they met in battle on 
September loth, near the western end of the lake. The fight was hardly 
beorun when Perry's ship, the Lawrence, became separated from the rest, and 
was so furiously attacked by Barclay's flag-ship, the Detroit, that in a short time 
she was in a sinking condition. Leaving her in charge of a lieutenant, Perry 
embarked in a small boat, and passing under his enemy's guns, boarded the 
N^iagcjra, where he hoisted his flag, and renewed the attack with such vigor 
that by four o'clock in the afternoon every one of the British vessels had 
surrendered. 

Few naval victories in history are more notable than that of Lake Erie, won 
by the genius and heroism of a young man of only twenty-seven. The letter 
which he sent to General Harrison, commander of the army, from the deck of 
his triumphant ship, has become immortal : — 

We have met the enemy, and they are ours, — two ships, two brigs, one schooner, and one 
sloop. Yours with very great respect and esteem, 

O. H. Perry. 

Perry won great honors by his victory. Congress voting him thanks, a 
medal, and the rank of captain. He afterward took an important part in 
military operations at Detroit, in the battle of the Thames, Canada, and in 
defense of Baltimore. While in command of a squadron in the West Indies, 
he was attacked by yellow fever, and died suddenly at Trinidad, in August, 1819. 




40O 




EIGHT-INCH GUN AND CARRIAGE OF THE *' BALTIMORE. 
{Buiit at the IVashington Navy- Yard, of American Steel.) 



DAVID G. FARRAGUT, 

THE OREAT UNION NAVAL COIVEIvIANDER. 





ONE of the naval heroes of the great civil war is better 
remembered than David G. Farragut. The figure of 
the brave admiral, in the fight in Mobile Bay, stand- 
^ ing in the rigging of the Hartford, with his glass in 
^ his hand, directing the movements of the fleet, is one 
of the most familiar pictures of the war ; and no 
braver man or better sailor than Farragut ever took 
the deck of a vessel. 
' The naval career of Farragut began in the War 

of 1812, when he was a boy only eleven years old. He 
was in that famous battle in the harbor of Valparaiso 
between the Essex and the British war-vessels Phebe and 
Cherjib, when the two British vessels attacked the Essex while disabled by a 
sudden squall, and after she had taken refuge in neutral waters. The Essex, 
her sails blown away and crippled by the storm, was unable to change her 
position, and lay helpless at the mercy of her enemies' guns. After a bloody 
battle of two hours and a half, under such fearful odds, the flag was lowered. 
In such desperate battles as this, which gave to the American navy lasting 
renown, the naval career of Farragut began. 

In January, 1862, the government fitted out an expedition for the capture 

of New Orleans, and put it under Farragut's command. His fleet comprised 

forty-eight vessels, large and small, and all of wood, as the iron-clad vessels of 

later date were not yet developed. The river was defended by Forts Jackson 

24 401 



402 DAVID G. FARRAGUT. 

and St. Philip, lying on opposite sides of the Mississippi, about seventy miles 
below the city ; and many gunboats and rams lay near the forts. 

Before attempting to pass the forts, Farragut determined to bombard them 
from his fleet ; and careful preparations were made on all the vessels. It was 
a grand spectacle when, on the i6th of March, this formidable fleet at last 
opened fire. The low banks of the river on both sides seemed lined with flame. 
All day long the earth trembled under the heavy explosions, and by night two 
thousand shells had been hurled against the forts. 

The rebels had not been idle during the delays of the previous weeks, but 
had contrived and constructed every possible instrument of destruction and 
defense. On the first morning of the bombardment they set adrift a fire-ship 
made of a huge flatboat piled with lighted pitch-pine cordwood. The blazing 
mass, however, kept in the middle of the stream, and so passed the fleet with- 
out inflicting any damage. At night another was sent adrift. Small boats were 
sent to meet it, and, in spite of the intense heat, grappling irons were fastened 
in it, and the mass was towed to the shore and left to burn harmlessly away. 

Having at last made all the preparations that he could with the means 
allowed him, and the mortar-boats having accomplished all that was in their 
power to do for the present, the 26th day of April was fixed for the passage of 
the forts. The chain across the channel had been cut a few nights before. It 
was determined to start at two o'clock in the morning, and the evening before 
Farragut visited his ships for a last interview with the commanders. 

THE PASSAGE OF THE FORTS. 

At length, at two o'clock, two lanterns were seen to rise slowly to the mizzen 
peak of the Hartford. The boatswain's shrill call rung over the water, and the 
drums beat to^ quarters. The enemy was on the lookout, and the vessels had 
scarcely got under way when signal-lights flashed along the batteries. Then a 
belt of fire gleamed through the darkness, and the next moment the heavy shot 
came shrieking over the bosom of the stream. All eyes were now turned on 
the Hartford, as she silently steamed on, — the signal "close action" blazing 
from her rigging. In the meantime the mortar-boats below opened fire, and 
the hissing .shells, rising in graceful curves over the advancing fleet, dropped 
with a thunderous sound into the forts above. In a few minutes the advanced 
vessels opened, firing at the flashes from the forts. The fleet, with full steam 
on, was soon abreast of the forts, and its rapid broadsides, mingling with the 
deafening explosions on shore, turned night into fiery day. 

While the bombardment was in progress, a fire-raft, pushed by the ram 
Manassas, loomed through the smoke, and bore straight down on the Hartford. 
Farragut sheered off to avoid the collision, and in doing so ran aground, when 
the fire-ship came full against him. In a moment the flames leaped up the rig- 



THE ATTACK ON THE FORTS. 



403 



ging and along the sides. There was no panic ; every man was in his place, 
and soon the hose was manned and a stream of water turned on the flames. 
The fire was at length got under, and Farragut again moved forward at the 
head of his column. 

And now came down the rebel fleet of thirteen gunboats and two iron-clad 
rams to mingle in the combat. Broadside to broadside, hull crashing against 
hull, it quickly became at once a gladiatorial combat of ships. The Varuna, 
Captain Boggs, sent five of the Confederate vessels to the bottom one after 
another, and finally was herself sunk. When the sun rose through the morning 





BAILEY S DAM ON THE RED RI\T.R. 



mist, he looked down on a scene never to be forgotten while naval deeds are 
honored by the nation. There lay the forts, with the Confederate flags still fly- 
ing. But their doom was sealed. And there, too, driven ashore, wrecked, or 
captured, were thirteen of the enemy's gunboats, out of the seventeen brought 
down to assist the forts in resisting the Union fleet. 

New Orleans was now at Farragut's mercy. Lovell, commanding the 
Confederate troops in the city, evacuated the place and left it under the control 
of the mayor. Monroe. Farragut took possession of the city, and raised the 
national flag on the City Hall, Mint, and Custom House, which were the 



404 



DAVID G. FARRAGUT. 



property of the United States. He then turned it over to General Butler, 
and proceeded with his fleet up the river. 

THE BATTLE IN MOBILE BAY. 

In January, 1864, Farragut sailed for Mobile Bay. Morgan and Gaines 
were the chief forts barring it. Fort Morgan mounted some thirty guns, and 
Fort Gaines twenty-one. There were three steamers and four rams inside, 
waiting to receive any vessels that might succeed in passing the forts. Batteries 
lined the shore, and torpedoes paved the bed of the channel. On the ist of 
March, also, before his preparations for the attack were complete, he saw the 

Confederate iron-clad ram Tennessee 
steam up the channel and anchor 
near the forts. 

This complicated the situation 
very much. The contest between 
wooden vessels on one side, and an 
iron-clad and strong forts on the 
other, was so unequal that it was 
almost foolhardy to enter it. After 
weeks of waiting, however, the 
Union iron clad Tecwnsek at last 
arrived, and on August 5, 1864, 
Farragut proceeded to attack the 
forts. 

The vessels were arranged two 
by two, and lashed strongly to- 
gether. The fleet, with the Brook- 
lyn ahead, steamed slowly on, and at a quarter to seven the Tectimseh 
fired the first gun. Twenty minutes later the forts opened fire, when the 
B}-ooklyn replied with two loo-pounder Parrott rifles, and the battle fairly 
commenced. 

Farragut had lashed himself near the maintop of the Hartford, so as to be 
able to overlook the whole scene. While watching with absorbing anxiety the 
progress of the fleet through the tremendous fire now concentrated upon it, sud- 
denly, to his utter amazement, he saw the Brooklyn stop and begin to back. 
The order to reverse engines passed down through the whole fleet, bringing it 
to a sudden halt just as it was entering the fiery vortex. "What does this 
mean ? " had hardly passed the lips of Farragut, when he heard the cry, "Tor- 
pedoes ! The Tcaimseh is going down ! " Glancing toward the spot where she 
lay, he saw only the top of her turrets, which were rapidly sinking beneath the 
water. Right ahead were the buoys which had turned the Brooklyn back, indi- 




ADMIRAL TMXID D. I'ORTF.R. 



THE FIGHT IN MOBILE BA Y. 405 

eating where torpedoes were supposed to be sunk, ready to lift his ship into the 
air as they had the Tecmnseh. 

But now Farragut's sailor blood was up. "D the torpedoes!" he 

shouted ; " go ahead ! " Pointing between the threatening buoys, the order was 
given to move on, and with the foam dashing from the bows of his vessel, he 
swept forward, "determined," he said, "to take the chances." Wheeling to 
the northwest as he kept the channel, he brought his whole broadside to bear 
on the fort, with tremendous effect. 

The other vessels following in the wake of the flag-ship one after another 
swept past the batteries, the crews loudly cheering, and were signaled by Far- 
ragut to come to anchor. But the officers had scarcely commenced clearing 
decks, when the Tennessee was seen boldly standing out into the bay, and steer- 
ing straight for the fleet, with the purpose of attacking it. 

RAMMING AN IRONCLAD RAM. 

It was a thrilling moment. There was a fleet of frail wooden vessels, at- 
tacked by a ram clad in armor impervious to their guns. The moment Farra- 
gut discovered it, he signaled the vessels to run her down, and, hoisting his own 
anchor, ordered the pilot to drive the Hartfoi-ci full on the iron-clad. The 
MonongaJiela, under the command of the intrepid Strong, being near the rear 
of the line, was still moving up the bay when he saw the ram heading for the 
line. He instantly sheered out, and, ordering on a full head of steam, drove his 
vessel with tremendous force straight on the iron-clad structure. Wheeling, he 
again struck her, though he had carried away his own iron prow and cutwater. 
The Lackawanna came next, and, striking the ram while under full headway, 
rolled her over on her side. The next moment, down came Farragut in the 
Hartford, but just before the vessel struck, the ram sheered, so that the blow 
was a glancing one, and the former rasped along her iron-plated hull and fell 
alongside. Recoiling for some ten or twelve feet, the Hartford poured in at 
that short distance a whole broadside of nine-inch solid shot, hurled with charges 
of thirteen pounds of powder. The heavy metal, though sent with such awful 
force, and in such close proximity, made no impression, but broke into fragments 
on the mailed sides or dropped back into the water. The shot and shell from: 
the Tennessee, on the other hand, went crashing through the wooden sides of 
the Hartford, strewing her deck with the dead. 

Farragut now stood off and began to make a circuit in order to come down 
again, when the Lackawanna, which was driving the second time on the mon- 
ster, by accident struck the Hartford a. little forward of the mizzen-mast, and cut 
her down to within two feet of the water. She was at first thought to be sink- 
ing, and "The Admiral! the Admiral! Save the Admiral!" rang over the 
shattered deck. But Farragut, seeing that the vessel would still float, shouted 



4o6 



DAVID G. FARRAGUT. 



out to put on steam, determined to send her, crushed and broken as she was, 
full on the ram. 

By this time the monitors had crawled up and were pouring in their heavy 
shot. The Chickasaw got under the stern and knocked away the smokestack, 
while the Manhattati sent one shot clean through the vessel, and disabled her 
stern port shutter with a shell, so that the gun could not be used, while a third 
carried away the steering gear. Thus, with her steering-chains gone, her smoke- 
stack shot away, many of her port shutters jammed, the Tennessee stood amid 
the crowding gunboats like a stag at bay among the hounds. The Ossipee was 
driving toward her under full headway ; and a little farther off, bearing down on 
the same errand, were coming the Hart/ord. Monongahela, and Lackazuanna. 




ONE OK THE " MlAMONOMAll'b " FOUR TEN-INCH UREECH-LOADING RIFLES. 



The fate of the iron-clad was sealed, and her commander hoisted the white flag, 
but not until the Ossipee was so near that her commander could not prevent a 
collision, and his vessel rasped heavily along the iron sides of the ram. He re- 
ceived her surrender from Commander Johnson — the admiral, Buchanan, having 
been previously wounded in the leg. This ended the morning's work, and at 
ten minutes past ten Farragut brought his fleet to anchor within four miles of 
Fort Morgan. 

The loss of the Union iron-clad Tecumsc/i, with her commander and crew, 
tempered the exultation over this splendid victory. A torpedo was exploded 
directly under the vessel, almost lifting her out of the water, and blowing a hole 
in her bottom so large that she sank before her crew could reach the deck. 
Farragut's impetuous bravery, however, and the picturesque novelty of wooden 



HIS WELCOME IN NEW YORK. 



407 



vessels ramming an iron-clad, made this one of the most famous naval battles 
of the war, and gave to the brave admiral a wide and lasting renown. Officers 
and men, too, seemed to catch the spirit of the commander, and fought with the 
most splendid bravery. Several of the wounded refused to leave the deck, 
but continued to fight their guns ; others retired and had their wounds dressed, 
and then returned to their posts. 

A few days later, after a severe bombardment from the Union fleet, both 




MilNUMKNT Tl) AUMIKAL FA K RAc .U l", AT W A.,11 INC. 1 OX. 

the Confederate forts were surrendered. This completed the Union victory, 
and put the harbor and city of Mobile again under the control of the govern- 
ment. Soon after this, his health demanding some relaxation, Farragut ob- 
tained leave of absence, and sailed for New York in his flagship, the now 
famous Hartford. At New York he was welcomed with impressive ceremonies, 
and received the highest testimonials of appreciation of his services to the 
nation, a number of wealthy men of New York presenting a gift of $50,000 as 
a token of their esteem. The rank of vice-admiral was created for him by 



4o8 



DAVID G. FARRAGUT. 



Congress. His services were not again required during the war, and he returned 
to his home at Hastings, on the Hudson. 

Farragut had just the qualities for a pojDular hero. Brave almost to the 
point of recklessness, he was simple and unassuming in appearance and 
deportment, and kind and genial in manner. A story is told of him that once 
when traveling in the White Mountains, a man brought his little daughter, at 
her own urgent request, some fifteen miles to see him, for she would not be 
content till she had looked on the great admiral. Farragut took the child in 
his arms, kissed her, and talked playfully with her. He was dressed in citizen's 
costume, and looked in her eyes very much like any other man, and totally 
unlike the hero whose praises had been so long ringing over the land. In her 
innocent surprise, she said, " Why, you do not look like a great general. I 
saw one the other day, and he was covered all over with gold." The admiral 
laughed, and, to please her, actually took her to his room, and put on his uni- 
form, when she went away satisfied. 




•A\ooei. OP 

U.S. AIam opWar " ==^ 

•BuiLt- fOR- t^hiBij oT- Woi^LDS Fair 



JAMES A. GARFIELD, 

CITIZEN, STATESIVIAN, PRESIDENT. 




URING the long, sultry days of the summer of 1881, at 
almost every newspaper and telegraph office stood a group 
of people, which sometimes swelled into a great crowd, 
watching eagerly for the slips of paper which from time to 
time were posted in a conspicuous place on the front of 
the building. In the intervals they would gather in little 
knots and talk together in low tones. To one who did 
not know what had happened on July 2d, it would have 
been hard to guess what gathered these waiting crowds, day 
after day, throughout the land. With intense, foreboding 
suspense fifty millions of people were watching for the news from 
the bedside of the President of the United States, who had been 
stricken down by the bullet of an assassin. Who that lived through that long 
summer can forget those an.xious days and nights ? And when at last the brave 
struggle for life was ended, and the silent form was borne from the seaside to 
rest on the shores of Lake Erie, who can forget the solemn hush which seemed 
to prevail everywhere as the tomb opened to receive all that was mortal of the 
beloved President, James A. Garfield ? 

To some not well acquainted with Garfield's history, it may seem that the 
tragic and pathetic circumstances of his illness and death were the chief cause 
of the universal love and grief which were manifested for him ; but a study of 
his life will correct this impression. Few public men of our time have had a 
career which was so gradual and steady a growth ; and few indeed attain to the 
full, ripe, well-rounded completeness which made him a really great statesman. 
Steadily, inch by inch, he had worked his way up, never falling back, until the 
topmost round of the ladder was reached ; and never was success more fully 
deserved or more bravely won. 

James Abram Garfield was born in Cuyahoga county, Ohio, on November 
19, 1831. He was but two years old when his father died suddenly, leaving 
his mother with four children, and her only source of support a small farm, 
encumbered by debt, in the half-cleared forests of northern Ohio. She worked 

411 



412 



JAMES A. GARFIELD. 



early and late, the children helping her. James had " not a lazy bone in his 
body." When hardly more than a baby, he picked cherries, planted corn, 
gathered vegetables, and helped in a hundred ways. He early developed a 
great aptitude for the use of tools, and as he grew up made an excellent car- 
penter. There was hardly a barn, shed, or building of any kind put up in the 
neighborhood but bore the marks of his skill. The money earned by the use 
of his tools in summer helped to pay for his schooling in the winter. 

James early developed a great love for books. Stories of battle, tales of 
adventure, the lives of great men, all such were irresistibly fascinating to him. 
Two books, Weems's "Life of Marion" and Grimshaw's "Napoleon," stirred 







THli HOME Oh' GARFIF.I.d's CHILDHOOD. 



in him a great desire for the military career on which he entered with so much 
promise in later life ; and stories of the sea at last aroused an irresistible long- 
ing for a sailor's life. He went to Cleveland and tried to secure employment 
on one of the lake vessels, but was unsuccessful. The only opening in the line 
of maritime commerce was on the Ohio and Pennsylvania canal, and James 
accepted the position of driver, at twelve dollars a month. Such was his 
capacity and attention to duty that in the first round trip he had learned all 
there was to be learned on the tow-path. He was promptly promoted from 
driver to bowsman, and accorded the proud privilege of steering the boat 
instead of steerin<j the mules. 



LIFE ON THE CANAL. 



413 



During his first trip he fell overboard fourteen times, by actual count. In 
this way he contracted malaria, which long remained with him. He could not 
swim a stroke. One dark, rainy night he again fell into the canal, when no help 
was at hand, and was saved as by a miracle, the rope at which he caught " kink- 
ing " and holding fast while he drew himself on deck. Believing that he was 
providentially saved for something better than steering a canal-boat, he returned 
home, resolved to obtain an education and make a man of himself 

EARNING AN EDUCATION. 

In the winter of 1849 he attended Geauga Seminary, where he and three 
other young men " boarded themselves," living on about fifty cents a week eacL 




GARFIELD ON THE TOW-PATH. 



Here he met a quiet, studious girl, Lucretia Rudolph, the daughter of a Mary- 
land farmer, who afterward became his wife. He was an intense student. He 
had an insatiable appetite for knowledge, and would make any sacrifice to 
obtain it. At the close of the session he worked through the vacation, and 
also taught a country school, to earn money for the following winter. He was 
a capital teacher. He stirred a new life and ambition in his scholars, and 
roused in them an enthusiasm almost equal to his own. 

In August, 1 85 1, Garfield entered a new school established at Hirarn, 
Portage county, by the religious society to which he belonged, the Disciples 
of Christ, or " Campbellites." Here he resolved to prepare himself for college. 
He lived in a room with four other pupils, and studied harder than ever. When 



414 



JAMES A. GARFIELD. 



he went to Hiram he had studied Latin only six weeks, and just begun Greek ; 
and was, therefore, just in a condition to fairly begin the four years' preparatory 
course ordinarily taken by students to enter college in the freshman class. 
Yet in tliree years' time he fitted himself to enter the junior class, and at the 
same time earned his own living, thus crowding six years' study into three, and 
teaching for support at the same time. After some debate he resolved to go to 
Williams College, in Berkshire, Massachusetts, and entered there in 1854. 

Study at Williams was easy for Garfield. He had been used to much 
harder work at Hiram. His lessons were always perfectly learned. One of 

the professors called him " the boy 
who never flunked," and he did 
much extra reading and studying. 

In the summer of 1856, after 
only two years of study, Garfield 
graduated at Williams College, and 
returned to his Ohio home. In the 
autumn he entered Hiram College 
as a teacher of ancient languages 
and literature. The next year, at 
the age of twenty-six, he was made 
president of the institution. This 
office he held for five years. Under 
his management the attendance was 
doubled ; he raised the standard of 
scholarship, strengthened its faculty, 
and inspired everybody connected 
with it with something of his own 
zeal and enthusiasm. In 1858 he 
married his old schoolmate. Miss 
Rudolph, and they began life in a little cottage fronting on the grounds of the 
college. 

Garfield's political career maybe said to have fairly begun in the campaign 
of 1857-58, when he made a number of political speeches. In 1859 he was 
elected to the State Senate of Ohio, and became a noted member of that body. 
When the war broke out in 1861, and President Lincoln issued his call for 
75,000 men, Garfield moved in the Ohio Senate to make 20,000 troops and 
$3,000,000 the quota of the State. In August Governor Dennison, the famous 
"war governor "of Ohio, offered him the lieutenant-colonelcy of the 42d Ohio 
Regiment, which was then being organized. Most of the regiment were old 
students of Hiram College, so that he would be surrounded in the field by the 
same faces among whom he had taught. He soon decided to accept the 




GARFIELD AT THE AGE OF SIXTEEN. 



THE KENTUCKY CAMPAIGN. 



415 



commission. His way of proceeding to drill his company was characteristic of 
the teacher as well as the soldier. He made soldiers of wooden blocks, fash- 
ioned in different forms to represent the officers, and with these blocks he car- 
ried on with his subordinates games of military tactics, until, when the regiment 
was ready to go into service, it was pronounced one of the most thoroughly 
drilled in the whole army. 

FIGHTING IN KENTUCKY. 

In December of 1861 Garfield's regiment was ordered into service in 
Kentucky and West Virginia. At that time the destiny of Kentucky was still 
in doubt. Though much attached to the Union, it was a slave State, and strong 




HIRAM COLLEGE. 



influences were at work to draw it within the vortex of secession. Two Confed- 
erate armies were marching northward through the State, one under ZoUi- 
koffer and the other under Humphrey Marshall. Garfield was dispatched 
against Marshall's forces. He met them on the banks of Middle Creek, a 
narrow and rapid stream, flowing into the Big Sandy, through the sharp spurs 
of the Cumberland Mountains. His force amounted to only iioo men; they 
met at least 5000, and defeated them. Marshall's force was driven from 
Kentucky, and made no further attempt to occupy the Sandy Valley. This 
campaign was conducted under the greatest possible difficulties, and It has 
received the highest praise from military critics. 

After his success in Kentucky, Garfield was sent with his regiment to join 



4i6 JAMES A. GARFIELD. 

Grant in Mississippi. He arrived, with the other forces under Buell, just in time 
to help in the second day's battle at Shiloh, and to turn the tide in favor of the 
Union army. After this battle he was for some time employed in rebuilding 
railroads and bridofes. In midsummer, however, he was obligred to return home 
on sick-leave. As soon as he recovered, he was ordered to join General Rose- 
crans, then in command of the Army of the Cumberland. He was made the 
commander's chief-of-staff, and acted in this position during the following year. 

On September 19, 1863, was fought the great battle of Chickamauga, which 
but for the bravery and steadiness of General Thomas would probably have 
resulted in the destruction of the Union army. Rosecrans, accompanied by his 
chief-of-staff, had left the battle-field, and gone hastily to Chattanooga, to provide 
for the retreat which he then thought inevitable. On reaching Chattanooga, 
Garfield, at his urgent request, was permitted to return to the battle-field, where 
he found Thomas still engaged in resisting the attack of the Confederate forces. 
Immediately after his arrival a fresh assault was made, lasting half an hour, when 
the Confederates finally broke, and abandoned the attack. Garfield remained 
on the field with General Thomas until night, and accompanied him in his retreat 
to Chattanooga. 

Soon after the battle of Chickamauga Garfield was nominated for Congress 
from the Northern District of Ohio. Almost at the same time he received his 
promotion to the grade of major-general for his gallant services in the Chatta- 
nooga campaign. His salary as major-general would be more than double that 
which he would receive as Conp'ressman ; but he was convinced that he could 
do the country more service in the latter position, and accordingly took his place 
in Congress, where he remained until, sixteen years later, he was nominated for 
President. 

Garfield's career in Congress was one of steady advancement. At its 
beeinnine he was noted as an efficient and oriorinal public man. He was 
exceedingly industrious and attentive to legislative business, and the measures 
which he originated and advocated in Congress gave him a wide and lasting 
reputation. In his second term, during the latter part of the war, his financial 
ability had become so apparent that the Secretary of the Treasury requested 
the Speaker to make him a member of the Ways and Means Committee, that 
the country might have the benefit of his ability and experience. Throughout 
his whole term of service, his influence steadily increased, and when in 1877 Mr. 
Blaine was transferred from the House to the Senate, Garfield was by common 
consent made the leader of the Republican party in the House. 

In 1880 Garfield was nominated and elected United States Senator by the 
Ohio Legislature, and on June loth of the same year he was nominated at 
Chicago for the Presidency. 

The meeting of the Republican National Convention in Chicago, in June, 



THE CHICAGO CONVENTION. 



417 



1880, was one of the most memorable in the history of the party. The popu- 
larity of General Grant had been immensely increased by the honors showered 
upon him by all nations in his trip around the world, from which he had recently 
returned ; and his powerful supporters, Conkling of New York, Cameron of 
Pennsylvania, and Logan of Illinois, were bent upon nominating him for a third 
term. His great rival was James G. Blaine, whose popularity was almost as 
great as that of Grant ; and Senators Sherman and Edmunds were also strongly 
supported, especially by those who disliked the " third term " idea. Garfield 
was himself a delegate from Ohio. Sherman was the man of his choice, and he 
worked with all his might to secure his nomination. 

For a full week the convention continued in session. Thirty-five ballots 
were cast without a majority for any one 
of the candidates. On the mornine of 
the last day the thirtieth ballot resulted 
Grant ; 279 for Blaine ; 
T,;^ for Washburne ; 1 1 
for Windom ; and 2 for 



in 306 votes for 
1 20 for Sherman 
for Edmunds ; 4 




HON. JOHN SHERMAN. 



Garfield. Nothing could chano-e the vote 
of Grant's famous " 306 ; " but neither 
could the best efforts of his friends in- 
crease the ranks of that faithful band ; and 
378 was the number required for a nomi- 
nation. It became evident also that Blaine 
could not be nominated, although his sup- 
porters were almost as steady as those 
of Grant. His vote, which on the first 
ballot was 284, remained nearly the same 
until the last day. Evidently the vote of 
those opposed to Grant must be massed 
upon some other candidate. Who that 

candidate was did not appear until the thirty-fourth ballot, when 1 7 votes were 
cast for Garfield. As soon as this result was announced, the end of the long 
struggle was foreseen. On the next ballot his vote increased to 50, and on the 
thirty-sixth and last, nearly all the delegates except Grant's immovable 306 
came over to Garfield with a rush. He received 399 votes, which made him 
the choice of the convention for President. 

Garfield's opponent in the canvass was General Winfield S. Hancock, one 
of the bravest soldiers of the civil war, who had been wounded at the great 
battle of Gettysburg. The tariff question was the chief issue of the campaign ; 
and on this and similar questions of national policy Garfield was admirably 
equipped and perfectly at nome ; while to General Hancock, whose training 



4i8 



JAMES A. GARFIELD. 



was altogether that of a soldier, they were new and unfamiliar. After an active 
and ably-fought contest, Garfield was elected by a vote of 214, to 155 for his 
competitor. 

Garfield's administration began with war, — political war, — war with the 
elements in his own party which had supported Grant at the Chicago conven- 
tion, and which now transferred the contest to the Senate. So peculiar was this 
well-remembered struggle, and so far-reaching in its effects, that the story de- 
serves to be briefly told. 

The very first question that met Garfield on his accession was that of 

appointments. Mr. Conkling, the 
senior senator from New York, 
had been the chief and most 
determined advocate of Grant's 
nomination. By the practice 
known as the "courtesy of the 
Senate," it was customary for 
that body to decline to confirm 
nominations made by the Presi- 
dent to offices in any State 
which were distasteful to the 
senators from that State. In 
making nominations for New 
York offices the President had in 
most cases named men unobjec- 
tionable to Senator Conkling ; 
but following these was one of 
William H. Robertson to be col- 
lector of customs at New York, 
which was especially obnoxious 
to him. Judge Robertson had 
been one of the New York dele- 
gates to the Chicago convention, and had led in organizing the final "bolt" to 
Garfield. An effort was made to get the President to withdraw this nomina- 
tion ; but he declined. Mr. Conkling then brought about an arrangement with 
the Democratic senators by which all nominations opposed by a senator from 
the nominee's .State should "lie over" without action, but others should be 
confirmed. The effect of this was to force Mr. Robertson's nomination to go 
over until the following December. With this result Mr. Conkling was highly 
pleased, for he had succeeded in driving the senators into a support of him 
without making an open rupture between them and the President. Mr. Conk- 
ling, it seemed that night, had the best of it. 




CHESTER ALAN ARTHUR, GARFIEI.D's SUCCESSOR. 



THE ASSASSINATION. 41^, 

The President however, was not yet beaten. With magnificent pluck, that 
was hailed by the people everywhere with applause, he dealt Mr. Conkling a 
fatal blow. The next morning, May 5th, all the nominations that were pleasfng 
to Mr. Conkling were withdrawn ; that of Judge Robertson was not. This 
defined the issue sharply, and obliged senators to choose between the President 
and the New York senator. They declined to follow Mr. Conkling, and Rob- 
ertson's nomination was confirmed. Then Mr. Conkling and his colleague, 
Mr. Piatt, in the most sensational manner resigned their seats in the Senlite,'' 
evidently believing that they would be promptly re-elected, and thus secure a 
" vindication " of their course from their own State. 

But they reckoned without their host. The fight was now transferred to 
- Albany ; but Mr. Conkling's power over the New York Legislature was gone. 
Public opinion sustained the President. The two senators resorted to every 
expedient known to politics to secure their re-election, but their efforts were in 
vain ; Messrs. Miller and Lapham were chosen to fill the vacant seats, and the 
two ex-senators were allowed to remain in private life. But before this result 
was reached, and while the ignoble struggle was still going on in the New York 
Legislature, the great tragedy occurred which plunged the whole country into 
deep sorrow. 

THE TRAGEDY OF I 88 1. 

Saturday, July 2, 1881, was a fair, hot midsummer day. The inmates of 
the White House were astir early. The President was going to Massachusetts 
to attend the commencement exercises at his old college at Williamstown, and 
afterward to take a holiday jaunt through New England, accompanied by several 
members of the Cabinet and other friends. His wife, who was at Long Branch, 
New Jersey, just recovering from a severe attack of malarial fever, was to join 
him at New York. He had looked forward with almost boyish delight to his 
trip, and was in high spirits as he and Secretary Blaine drove off to the railway 
station. 

There was no crowd about. Most of those who were to take the train had 
already gone on board. Among the few persons in the waiting-room was a 
slender, middle-aged man, who walked up and down rather nervously, occasion- 
ally looking out of the door as if expecting some one. There was nothing 
about him to attract special notice, and no one paid much attention to him. 
When President Garfield and Mr. Blaine entered, he drew back, took a heavy 
revolver from his pocket, and, taking deliberate aim, fired. The ball struck the 
President on the shoulder. He turned, surprised, to see who had shot him. 
The assassin recocked his revolver and fired again, and then turned to flee. 
The President fell to the floor, the blood gushing from a wound in his side. 

In a moment all was confusion and horror. Secretary Blaine sprano- after 
the assassin, but, seeing that he was caught, turned again to the President. 



^- 



420 



JAMES A. GARFIELD. 



The shock had been great, and he was very pale. A mattress was brought, his 
tall form was lifted tenderly into an ambulance, and he was swiftly borne to the 
Executive Mansion. His first thought was for his wife, — the beloved wife of his 
youth, just recovering from sickness, e.xpecting in a few hours to meet him. 
How would she bear the tidings of this blow ? 

" Rockwell," he said, faintly, to a friend, " I want you to send a message to 
' Crete ' " (his pet name for his wife, Lucretiaj. " Tell her I am seriously hurt, 




garfiki.d's assassination. 



how seriously I cannot yet say. I am myself and hope she will come to me 
soon. I send my love to her." 

A swift train brought Mrs. Garfield to her husband's side that evening ; 
and then began the long struggle for life, with its Huctuations between hope and 
dread, which lasted for almost three months. Just after Mrs. Garfield's arrival 
there was a sudden collapse which seemed to be the end, ami the family of the 
President were hastily summoned to his bedside ; but, to the surprise of every 
one, the crisis passed, ami for three weeks he seemed to improve. Then came 
a turn for the worse, and from that time the President lost ground. The hot 
summer days, hard to bear even for those in full health, wasted and weakened 



THE FUNERAL TRAIN. 



421 



him terribly. He sank steadily ; and it was seen that unless relief from the 
intense heat could be had, he would inevitably die within a few days. It was 
decided to remove him to Elberon, on the ocean shore, near Long Branch, New 
Jersey ; and on September 7th, accompanied by his family and the members of 
the cabinet, he was borne by a swift special train northward to the seaside. A 
summer cottage had been offered for his use, and there for two anxious weeks 
lay the man who, it may be truly said, had become 

The pillar of a people's hope, 
The centre of a world's desire. 

The cooling breezes of the seaside brought some relief, and the change no 
doubt prolonged his life ; but it could not be saved. In the night of September 
19th, almost without warning, the end came ; the feeble flame of life, so 
anxiously watched and cherished, flickered a moment, and then went out in the 
darkness. 

The President's body was borne back to Washington, where it lay in state, 
viewed by great throngs of mourning people ; then it was taken westward to 
Cleveland, and laid in the tomb by the shores of Lake Erie, almost in sight of 
his old home. The journey was one long funeral pageant. For almost the 
entire distance the railway tracks were lined with crowds of people, who, with 
uncovered heads, stood in reverent silence as the train passed. Not since the 
day when that other dead President, the great Lincoln, was borne to his last 
resting-place, had such an assembly been gathered ; and the love and grief 
which followed Garfield to his grave are the best tribute to the worth of his 
character. 

Five months later, in the hall of the House of Representatives at Washing- 
ton, amid such a throng as that chamber has seldom seen. Secretary Blaine 
delivered his eulogy of the dead President ; and from that splendid and pathetic 
address we take the concluding words, which will fitly close this brief sketch : — 

Great in life, he was surpassingly great in death. . . Through days of deadly languor, 
through weeks of agony that was not less agony because silently borne, with clear sight and calm 
courage, he looked into his open grave. What blight and ruin met his anguished eyes, whose lips 
may tell ! — what brilliant broken plans, what baffled high ambitions, what sundering of strong, warm 
manhood's friendships, what bitter rending of sweet household ties ! Behind him a proud, expect- 
ant nation, a great host of sustaining friends, a cherished and happy mother, wearing the full, rich 
honors of her early toils and tears; the wife of his youth, whose whole life lay in his; the little 
boys, not yet emerged from childhood's day of frolic ; the fair young daughter ; the sturdy sons just 
springing into closest companionship, claiming every day and every day rewarding a father's love 
and care ; and in his heart the eager, rejoicing power to meet all demand. Before him, desolation 
and great darkness ! And his soul was not shaken. His countrymen were thrilled with instant, 
profound, and universal sympathy. Masterful in his mortal weakness, he became the centre of a 
nation's love, enshrined in the prayers of a world. But all the love and all the sympathy could not 
share with him his suffering. He trod the wine-press alone. With unfaltering front he faced death. 



422 



JAMES A. GARFIELD. 



With unfailing tenderness he took leave of life. Above the demoniac hiss of the assassin's bullet he 
heard the voice of God. With simple resignation he bowed to the Divine decree. 

As the end drew near, his early craving for the sea returned. The stately mansion of power 
had been to him the wearisome hospital of pain, and he begged to be taken from its prison walls, 
from its oppressive, stifling air, from its homelessness and hopelessness. Gently, silently, the love 
of a great people bore the pale sufferer to the longed for healing of the sea, to live or to die, as God 
should will, within sight of its heaving billows, within sound of its manifold voices. With wan, 
fevered face tenderly lifted to the cooling breeze, he looked out wistfully upon the ocean's changing 
wonders; on its fair sails, whitening in the morning light ; on its restless waves, rolling shoreward 
to break and die beneath the noonday sun; on the red clouds of evening, arching low to the hori- 
zon ; on the serene and shining pathway of the stars. Let us think that his dying eyes read a mystic 
meaning which only the rapt and parting soul may know. Let us believe that in the silence of the 
receding world he heard the great waves breaking on a further shore, and felt already upon hij 
w.i3ted brow the breath of the eternal morning. 




TABLET IN TIIK WAITING-ROOM OK THE RAILWAY 
STATION WHERE GARFIELD WAS SHOT. 



f 



SAMUEL J. TILDEN, 

THE OREA.T REKORM QOVERNOR. 




iV 1876, the great Centennial Year of the RepubHc, occurred an 
event unprecedented in our history, and so portentous and 
alarming that for a time it threatened civil war and the 
destruction of our government. This was the disputed 
presidential contest of Hayes against Tilden, which was 
finally settled by the Electoral Commission, which decided 
the election in favor of Mr. Hayes. Mr. Tilden had 
received a large majority of the popular vote, and he and 
his supporters sincerely believed that he was duly and 
legally elected ; and it is not too much to say that his self- 
command and his patriotic efforts to quiet public excitement 
and promote acquiescence in the decision of the commis- 
sion went far to save the country from anarchy and possible war. 

Samuel Jones Tilden was born February 9, 1814, in Columbia county, 
New York, — one of the counties lying between the Hudson and the western 
border of Massachusetts. He was a born politician. From boyhood he 
keen interest in political and economic questions, studied them thor- 
and discussed them eagerly. Near the home of his boyhood lived 
Martin Van Buren, — the " Saee of Kinderhook," as he was called, — the sue- 
cessor of Jackson, and one of the ablest political leaders of his time. For Van 
Buren young Tilden conceived a profound admiration, and throughout his whole 
•career that shrewd statesman was his model. When only eighteen, he was so 
stirred by the political discussions of his elders, in the hot campaign of 1832, that 
he wrote an "Address to the People," a shrewd and forcible appeal on the 
pending issues, which so struck Mr. Van Buren that he advised that it should 
be pubHshed in the newspapers. This was done, and its ability was so marked 
that it was attributed to Van Buren himself and he was at last obliged to deny 
being its author. Tilden, also, when only twenty-three, appeared suddenly one 
■day on the platform to answer a speech of Senator Tallmadge, an old and prac- 
ticed politician ; and so effective was his impromptu reply that it was greeted 
with wild applause by friends and foes alike. His interest in politics, and his 

425 



took a 
oughly 



426 SAMUEL J. TILDEN. 

ability both as a statesman and a practical campaign manager, continued and 
increased to the end of his life. 

After completing his college course, Tilden studied law, and was admitted 
to the bar in 1841, beginning a long career of uninterrupted success and grow- 
ing fame. He was a " born lawyer," no less than a born politician. He had a 
genius for analysis, an insight into motives, an ability to untangle and make 
clear what was intricate or perplexed, which is possessed by very few. These 
qualities he e.xhibited in a high degree in the Flagg contested election case, in 
1856. Flagg, the Democratic candidate for Comptroller of New York city, had 
20,313 votes, and Giles, his opponent, liad 20, 134. Giles contested the election, 
and broutrht witnesses who swore that in one ward, which eave Flaeir ^16 votes 
and Giles 186, the numbers had been transposed on the return-sheet, and that the 
vote was really 186 for Flagg and 316 for Giles. The tally-sheet of "straight" 
votes had disappeared — conveniently for the prosecution ; and the tally-sheets 
of split votes corroborated the testimony of their witnesses. There was no 
evidence to be had but that offered by the prosecution. The defence seemed 
to be absolutely helpless. But Tilden took the remaining tally-sheets, and 
spent the night in working over them ; and by a process of reasoning from them 
and the " straight" ballots cast, he was able to actually reconstruct the missing 
tallies, with absolutely certain proof that the transposition claimed was impossi- 
ble. In his opening speech he gave his astounded opponents the first notion of 
the evidence which he had built up, seemingly from nothing, to destroy their 
case : — 

If, by a violent blow (he said), I should break out the corner of this table, and split a piece 
off, the fractured and abraded fibers of the wood would be left in forms so peculiar that, thouj^h all 
human ingenuity might be employed to fashion a piece that would fit in the place from which the 
fragment had i)een broken, it could not be done. Those things that are the work of (Jod are so 
much su]jerior in texture to anything we can do, that when they are broken u]:) our ingenuity can- 
not restore ihcni. 

He then placed in the hands of the court and jury printed copies of his 
reconstructed tallies, and of all the regular tickets, and went over them step by 
step, by which process they were enabled to perceive and demonstrate, each for 
himself the impossibility of the alleged transposition. Within fifteen minutes 
after the case was submitted to the jury, they rc'turned with a verdict in his 
favor. 

Mr. Tilden's wonderful powers of perception and analysis gave him great 
success in the management of legal business of great corporations, where intri- 
cate accounts and statistics, and the conflict of many different interests, hid and 
confused the real questions. .So able was he in rescuing them from ruinous 
litigation, reorganizing their administration, and re-arranging their affairs, that 
it is said that more than half the great railway companies between the Hudson 



THE "TWEED RING." 



42; 



and Missouri rivers have at some time been his clients. In this practice he 
acquired both extensive fame and a large fortune. 

But it was as a reformer in politics that Mr. Tilden acquired his greatest 




THE STATUE OF LIBERTY IN NEW YORK HARBOR. 



and most lasting fame. In 1869 the " Tweed ring " of thieves and adventurers 
had secured the absolute control of New York city. To illustrate their power 
over the city finances, it may be mentioned that at one meeting of the Board of 
Special Audit, three men ordered the payment of over six million dollars, hardly 



428 



SAMUEL J. TILDEX. 



ten per cent, of which in vahie was reahzed by the city. Nearly fifteen millions 
of dollars in fraudulent bills against the city were paid in a single day ! The 
thieves had so securely intrenched themselves that they defied any one to dis- 
lodge them. " What are you going to do about it? " was Tweed's famous reply 
to criticism. 

But there was one man who knew what to do about it. A combination of 
citizens was formed to attack the ring, and to this work Mr. Tilden gave his 
best powers. By obtaining from banks the checks which had been paid, and 
comparing them with accounts in the Comptroller's office, he was able to lay bare 
the details of the conspiracy. He proved that two-thirds of the whole amount 




GENERAL VIFAV OF THE NEW YORK CITY HAI.I.. 



of bills audited had been divided among public officers and their accomplices, 
and was able to show what amount of public plunder was in the hands of each. 
With the proofs thus furnished the ring was at length broken up, its power 
destroyed, and the most prominent of the thieves brought to justice. Tweed 
fled to Europe, was brought back, and died miserably in prison. 

In consequence largely of Tilden's good work in the overthrow of the 
Tweed ring, he was elected, in 1874, Governor of New York. In this position 
he soon found work ready to his hand in the exposure and overthrow of the 
"Canal ring," a body of corrupt men who had secured control of the Erie and 
Champlain canals, and by a system of immense expenditures and false accounts 



THE DISPUTED ELECTION. 429 

had robbed the State of large sums. Tilden's vigorous efforts resulted in over- 
throwing the ring, recovering large amounts of stolen money, and completely 
reforming the whole system of canal administration and management. 

Tilden had now gained a most enviable position. By his great reforms he 
had overthrown two powerful "rings," had reduced State taxation nearly one- 
half, and as Governor of the greatest State of the Union he stood at the head 
of the Democratic party, with a national fame as a reformer and a statesman. 
It was natural that, in 1876, all eyes should have turned to him as the man to 
head the Democratic ticket in the coming election. He was nominated by the 
Democratic National Convention at St. Louis in June, 1876, amid great enthu- 
siasm. 

The campaign of 1876 was most ably conducted. Mr. Tilden brought into 
the contest his unsurpassed sagacity and shrewdness as a political manager, 
and the result was astounding to his opponents. For some days after the elec- 
tion there seemed no doubt of his complete triumph. But soon it appeared 
that in the States of Louisiana, South Carolina, and Florida, where the colored 
vote was a principal factor, the result was disputed. If the Republican candi- 
date secured all of these three States it would give him 185 electoral votes, or 
just one more than Mr. Tilden would have. It soon became evident that there 
would be two sets of returns from these States, and then the question would 
be, Which set shall be received and counted ? The Senate was Republican, the 
House Democratic. Either House could, by objecting to a return, put a stop 
to the count before Congress, and thus the country would drift on into anarchy. 
The excitement was intense. Finally, it was proposed to establish an Electoral 
Commission of fifteen members, — three Republican and two Democratic sena- 
tors, three Democratic and two Republican representatives, and five justices 
of the Supreme Court, two of whom should be Republican and two Democratic ; 
and these fourteen members were to choose the fifteenth, who, it was expected, 
would be Judge David Davis, of Illinois, who was classed as an independent. 
Thus the commission would be evenly divided politically, and yet there could 
be no tie. To this commission was to be submitted the returns from any dis- 
puted State, and their decision was to be final. 

In spite of opposition, the bill creating the commission was passed ; and 
then occurred one of the trifling accidents which sometimes decide the fate of 
nations. Judge Davis was elected to the Senate, and resigned from the Supreme 
bench. He was thus disqualified to sit on the commission, and Justice Bradley, 
a Republican, was chosen the fifteenth member. In every case of dispute, the 
commission decided by a party vote — eight to seven — to count the Republican 
returns. The three doubtful States were thus all given to the Republican can- 
didate. The count was completed only two days before March 4th ; and thus, 
by the narrowest possible majority, Mr. Hayes was seated in the executive chair. 



430 



SAMUEL J. TJLDEN. 



Never did Mr. Tilden appear to better advantage than during this exciting 
contest. He was entirely convinced of liis election ; he had millions of sup- 
porters ; a word from him would have precipitated anarchy. It is to his lasting 

honor that, at that critical mo- 
ment, his every word and act 
was such as to preserve peace 
and order, even at the expense 
of the Presidency. 

After the contest of 1876, 
Mr. Tilden retired from public 
life. In both 1880 and 1884 the 
greatest pressure was brought 
upon him to again accept the 
nomination for the Presidency ; 
but this he firmly resisted, main- 
taining that by long and arduous 
service he had earned the right 
to retirement. The last work 
of his life was a plan for a great 
public library, to found which he 
left by his will the bulk of his 
large fortune. His beneficent 
design was frustrated, however, 
by legal flaws in his will, which 
his relations successfully con 
tested, thus depriving him of the monument which his noble purpose and use 
fill life deserved. He died in New York on August 4. 3886. 




KUTIIKRFORD BURCHARD HAYES. 



JAMES G. BLAINE, 

THE BRILLIANT AND SUCCESSFUL STATESMAN. 




HE close of the great civil war of 1861 marked a new era 
in American politics. The nation which was then restored 
to the people was a new nation. Freed from the blight 
of slavery, the country began to grow and expand with a 
rapidity which was absolutely startling. The South and 
West especially moved forward with giant strides. The 
permanence of the government being assured, the ques- 
tions of the hour became those of reconstruction and paci- 
fy F ^ ^^ fication, of the rights of the freedmen, of internal peace 
' I-. ^,, ^^^^^^ and security, of foreign and domestic commerce, of tariffs 
and finance. Of the many able men who won their fame in 
the period since the war, there is none more prominent nor more widely 
admired and beloved than James G. Blaine. 

Two States of the Union claim Blaine as a son. During most of his man- 
hood and later life he lived in Maine ; but he was born in Washington county, 
Pennsylvania, and the latter State always cherished for him the warmest affec- 
tion, giving him in the presidential election of 1884 a popular majority unprece- 
dented in the history of the State. He was, however, familiarly known as 
" The Man from Maine," and by that name will live in the memory of the 
people with that other great leader, Henry Clay, with whom he has often been 
compared. His life began on January 31, 1830. His father, Ephraim Blaine, 
was a farmer and justice of the peace, whose fortunes had become impaired by 
too generous living and lack of thrift. James was a healthy, happy, intelligent 
boy, showing, even in early childhood, some of the traits which afterward dis- 
tinguished him as a man. His courage and pugnacity are illustrated by a story 
told of him at that time. A well was beinsf dug near the house, and little 
James, then three or four years old, was led by curiosity to lean over and peer 
down into the "big hole." One of the workmen, fearing that he would fall in, 
tried to frighten him away by making faces and glaring at him, and making 
threatening gestures with a shovel. But little Jim was not so easily scared. 
To him it was a case for fighting, not for running. Picking up clods from 

433 



434 



JAMES G. BLAINE. 



the heap of dirt by the well, he began to heave them in upon the enemy. This 
vigorous bombardment was more than the workman had bargained for ; he feared 
that stones would follow next, and called for help. The boy's mother heard 
him, and came and led the pugnacious little fellow away. 

When Blaine was about eleven, he lived for a time at Lancaster, Ohio, with 
his uncle, Thomas Ewing, then Secretary of the Treasury. — the same large- 
hearted statesman who a few years before had taken into his family youno- 
William T. .Sherman, the boy who was to become one of the great generals of 
the civil war. Mr. Ewing's home was a resort of statesmen and politicians, 




MR. lU.AlNK S lUKl'HPl.ACli, WlisT ISKuWNsVU.l.K, PA. 



and in that atmosphere no doubt the mind of young Blaine received a strong 
impulse toward a political career. 

In 1843 he returned to his father's home, and entered Washington College, 
at Washington, Pennsylvania. He was an ardent student, and made rapid 
progress. Logic and mathematics were his favorite studies, but he also delighted 
in history and literature. He was always a leader among the boys, especially 
in debate. It is related that on one occasion, when he was ambitious to be 
elected president of the literary society, he committed " Cu.shing's Manual " to 
memory in one evening, in order to qualify himself on parliamentary practice. 
He had also a strong love for history, and it is said that he could recite from 
memory many of the chapters in " Plutarch's Lives." 



REMOVAL TO MAINE. 435 

From Washington College Mr. Blaine went to Blue Lick Springs, Ken- 
tucky, where he became a teacher in the Western Military Institute, in which 
there were about 450 boys. A retired army officer, who was a student there, 
relates that Mr. Blaine was a thin, handsome, earnest young man, with the 
same fascinating manners that were characteristic of him throuehout his whole 
career. He was popular with the boys, who trusted him and made friends with 
him from the first. He knew the full name of every one, and discerned his 
shortcomings and his strong points. While teaching here, Mr. Blaine met Miss 
Harriet Stanwood, who belonged to an e.xcellent Maine family, and a few 
months afterward they were married. 

In 1 85 1 Mr. Blaine returned to Pennsylvania, bringing with him an intense 
hatred of slavery, which greatly influenced his future career. Going to Phila- 
delphia, he became a teacher in the Pennsylvania Institution for the Instruction 
of the Blind. There he had charge of the higher classes in literature and 
science. An interesting memorial of his work in Philadelphia is still to be seen, 
in the shape of the journal of the institution, which bears the inscription : — 

JOURNAL 

OF THE 

PENNSYLVANIA INSTITUTION 

FOR THIC 

INSTRUCTION OF THE BLIND, 

FROM ITS FOUNDATION. 



Compiled from Offici.vl Records 

BY 

JAMES G. BLAINE, 

1854. 

After two years work in teaching the blind, Mr. Blaine yielded to his wife's 
desire that he should make Maine his home. The young couple moved, in 1853, 
to Augusta. In the following year Mr. Blaine entered into partnership with 
Joseph Baker, a prominent lawyer of Augusta, and together they purchased 
The Ketmcbec Journal, of which Mr. Blaine at once became the editor, his ready 
intelligence and trenchant style being peculiarly adapted to this field. The 
Journal was a weekly paper, one of the organs of the Whig party, and exer- 
cised considerable political influence. Mr. Blaine speedily made his impress, 
and within three years he was a master spirit in the politics of the State. 

When the old Whig party went to pieces, Mr. Blaine joined hands with 
Governor Anson P. Morrill in organizing the Republican party in the Pine Tree 
State. He entered into this work with all his energy, and his earnest and 
incisive discussion in, The Journal, of the rising conflict between freedom and 



436 



JAMES G. BLAINE. 



slavery attracted wide attention. In 1856 he was a delegate to the first Repub- 
lican National Convention, held in Philadelphia, which nominated General Fre- 
mont for President. On his return home he made a report at a public meeting. 
His speech on this occasion, begun with hesitation and embarrassment, but 
advancing to confident and fervid utterance, first illustrated his capacity on 
the platform, and gave him standing as a public speaker. 

In 1858 Blaine was elected to the Maine House of Representatives, and 
re-elected in 1859 and i860. During the last two years he was chosen Speaker 




srnnoi, HOUSK, BROWNSVIU.E, PA., WHERE MR. ni.AINE BEGAN HIS EDUCATION. 



of the House, and there began his training for the higher post in Congress 
which the future held for him. He distinguished himself both on the floor and 
in the chair. He was a hard worker, a fine speaker, and a dignified and im- 
partial presiding officer. He became very popular in his State, and was seen 
to be a " rising man." 

In i860 Mr. Blaine was a delegate to the memorable convention at Chicago 
which nominated Abraham Lincoln for the presidency ; and when he returned, 
he took an active part in the campaign. He was in great demand in his own 
State as a political speaker. Whenever a call was made upon the State 



HIS CONGRESSIONAL CAREER. 437 

Committee for help in a local contest, the demand was almost sure to be, " Send 
us Blaine !" 

In 1862 Blaine was elected a member of the famous Thirty-eighth Con- 
gress ; and then began that long career in the national legislature which made . 
him one of the best known and most popular public men of the United States. 
He took his seat in 1863, in the midst of the civil war. He was a strong admirer 
and earnest supporter of the great President, who depended upon him for ■ 
confidential information and aid regarding his own State. In the Presidential 
election of 1864, which for a time was very doubtful, Lincoln sent Blaine on a 
special mission to Maine, to ascertain if there was any adverse movement there. 
As far back as 1858, at the time of the Douglas debates, Blaine had prophesied 
in his paper that Douglas would beat Lincoln in that contest, but that Lincoln 
would defeat Douglas for the Presidency in i860. This prophecy, copied in 
Illinois papers, was noticed by Lincoln, who cut it out and kept it in his mem- 
orandum book until long after. It naturally led to a confidential friendship 
between the two men. The election of 1864 resulted in the re-election of 
Blaine to Congress, and he took a prominent part in the difficult legislation of 
the " reconstruction era," and the stormy times which followed the war. 

In 1869, Schuyler Colfax, who had been elected Vice-President, was thus 
transferred to the Senate chamber, and Blaine was chosen to succeed him as 
Speaker of the House, and was re-elected in 1871 and 1873. He was one of 
the most popular officers who ever filled that e.xacting position, being elected 
for each of his three terms without opposition. He was always courteous and 
fair, and especially quick in the discharge of his functions. It was one of the 
sights of the time for visitors to watch Mr. Blaine facing a standing House to 
count the ayes and noes. With the head of his gavel clasped in his right hand, 
using the handle as a pointer, he swept it from right to left so rapidly that it 
was hardly possible to believe that he had counted the throng correctly ; but if 
his announcement of the vote was disputed, the count of the tellers always 
verified his declaration. 

By the dection in 1874 the Democrats secured a majority in the House of 
Representatives, and of course Mr. Blaine's term as Speaker came to an end. 
This election really marked a new period in political history. During the civil 
war and the years following it, the Republican party had held almost undis- 
puted supremacy. It had re-established the power of the national government, 
had freed the negro, and had secured the adoption of the amendments to the 
Constitution. But its long lease of power had brought about the inevitable 
result. Base men had attached themselves to the party for corrupt purposes, 
and tried to shield themselves under the cloak of patriotism and loyalty to the 
Union. When threatened with exposure and punishment, such men of course 
sought to make the party responsible for their deeds, and to involve it in the 



438 



JAMES G. BLAINE. 



consequences. The result was the " era of scandal " of Grant's second adminis- 
tration, when the "Credit Mobilier," the "Whiskey Ring" frauds, and the 
Belknap episode were brought to light. A passion for "investigation" fol- 
lowed. Every prominent public man who manifested any unwillingness to have 
his private affairs made public fell under suspicion. Mr. Blaine was too shining 
a mark to be missed. He was accused of having been bribed with a gift of i 
Little Rock and Fort Smith railroad bonds, by the Union Pacific Railroad Com- 
pany, when Speaker of the House, to give a decision favoring that company. 
He was accused of stealing letters — his own letters — which would have incrim- 
inated him ; and for years he was pursued with charges of various sorts of cor- 




W \^lll^l.Tl>^ AND JKKKKKSON Cl.ll.LKCK, \\A^]ilNi 1 

ruption. These charges he completely disproved on the floor of the House, 
showing that he had bought the bonds, and had lost over $20,000 by their 
purchase. After meeting and disproving the .slanders against him, he said : — 

" Having now noticed the two charges that have been so extensively circu- 
lated, I shall refrain from calling the attention of the House to any others that 
may be invented. To quote the language of another, ' I do not propose to 
make my public life a perpetual and uncomfortable flea-hunt, in the vain efforts 
to run down stories which have no basis in truth, which are usually anonymous, 
and whose total refutation brings no punishment to those who have been 
guilty of originating them.' " 



INGERSOLLS SPEECH. 



439 



The first charge against him, however, served its purpose. It was made a 
short time before the Repubhcan convention of 1876, when Blaine was the most 
prominent candidate for the Presidential nomination. For several weeks Mr. 
Blaine was kept busy, under the pressure of excitement, repelling the attacks 
upon him, and at the same time attending to his public duties. One intensely hot 
Sunday in June, three days before the meeting of the convention, while on his way 
to church, he suffered a sunstroke, and for some days was greatly prostrated. 
This and the various charges which had been brought were made use of against 
him before the convention. Nevertheless, his vote grew steadily larger until 
the very end, and he was only defeated by a combination of all the other 
delegates upon Hayes, on the final ballot, which stood, Hayes 384, Blaine 
351, and Bristow 21. 

One of the episodes which made the con- 
vention of 1876 memorable was the speech 
of Robert G. Ingersoll, made in presenting 
Blaine's name as a candidate. The vast audi- 
ence was stirred to the highest pitch of enthu- 
siasm by Ingersoll's vindication of the great 
leader. Referring to Blaine's dramatic defense 
and his sudden attack on his accusers, on the 
floor of Congress, Ingersoll said : — 

" Like an armed warrior, like a plumed knight, James 
G. Blaine marched down the halls of the American Con- 
gress and threw his shining lance full and fair against the 
brazen forehead of the defamers of his country and the 
maligners of his honor. For the Republican party to 
desert this gallant leader now is as though an army should 
desert their general upon the field of battle." 




E F. LDMC.N'DS. 



This speech gave to Blaine the title of 
the "Plumed Knio-ht," — a name which clung^ to him to the end of his life. 

The winter of 1876-77 was the time of the great struggle over the dis- 
puted election, which was finally settled by the creation of the Electoral 
Commission. Mr. Blaine was not in favor of the commission, believing that 
the regular machinery of government was adequate to meet the situation ; but 
he did not strongly oppose it, and rejoiced at the peaceful settlement of the 
contest. 

During the winter Blaine was elected to the United States Senate by the 
Legislature of Maine, by a unanimous vote. This unprecedented honor, in 
which his political opponents in the Legislature all joined, showed what had 
been the effect of the slanders against him upon those who knew him best. He 
took his seat in the Senate at the special session called in October, 1877. 



2tl 



440 



JAMES G. BLAINE. 



As the close of Hayes' administration approached, it became evident that 
Blaine would again be a leading candidate for the Presidential nomination. It 
was in this year that the famous effort was made by the supporters of General 
Grant to nominate him for a third term. Mr. Blaine was the most prominent 
candidate in opposition to Grant ; but beside him there were Sherman, Edmunds, 
and Washburne, who had considerable strength. The proceedings of that 
memorable convention, resulting in the nomination of Garfield, are more fully 
told elsewhere. (See James A. Garfield.) Blaine became Garfield's Secre- 
tary of State, upon his inauguration in March, 1881. 

Almost immediately upon 
the accession of the new admin- 
istration the famous contest over 
the government patronage in 
New York began, and did not 
end until after that fatal day of 
July 2, 1 88 1, when the bullet of 
the assassin laid Garfield low. 
During the long, hot days of 
that weary summer, Blaine's bur- 
den was heavy and hard to bear. 
The President's disability threw 
much extra work upon the Sec- 
retary of State, and when at last 
the drama closed at the tomb of 
Garfield in Cleveland, Blaine was 
much worn down. He continued 
in office for a time, however, at 
President Arthur's request, and 
in order to accomplish a great 
measure on which he had set his 
heart. This was the inviting of 
all the American Republics to join in a Peace Congress at Washington, for 
the purpose of strengthening amicable relations, and especially to establish a 
tribunal of arbitration for the settlement of disputes without war. Differences 
of opinion, however, separated him from the administration, and in December, 
1 88 1, Mr. Blaine resigned his portfolio and retired to private life. 

On February 27, 1882, Blaine delivered in the hall of the House of Rep- 
resentatives his great eulogy upon President Garfield, one of the finest and 
most pathetic orations ever heard within that Chamber. The audience assem- 
bled comprised the members of both Houses of Congress, the President 
and his Cabinet, the Supreme Court, the representatives of foreign govern- 




GROVER CLEVELAND. 



HIS EULOGY ON GARFIELD. 



441 



ments, and great numbers of distinguished men and women. It was a beautiful 
winter day ; business houses everywhere were closed, and all through the 
morning hours throngs of people traversed the avenues converging on the 
Capitol. The touching words in which he bore tribute to his dead friend were 
Hstened to with breathless attention by the great throng which filled the house, 
and when he pronounced that passage of sublime beauty with which the oration 
closed, the solemn hush which fell upon the great assembly deepened the 
impression felt by every one present, that he had listened to one of the greatest 
oratorical efforts of history. 




THE PLAINE RESIDENCE AT AUGUSTA, MAINE. 



When the Republican National Convention of 1884 met, Blaine's nomina 
tion was almost a foregone conclusion. The only prominent candidate beside 
Blaine was President Arthur, whose administration had been so acceptable to 
the country as to produce a considerable movement in his favor. On the fourth 
ballot, however, Blaine was triumphantly nominated. General John A. Logan 
was nominated for Vice-President, and the convention adjourned. 

Into the campaign of 1884 Blaine threw himself with intense enthusiasm. 
Strong efforts were made to defeat him upon personal grounds. These ques- 



442 



JAMES G. BLAINE. 



tions he refused to discuss, throwing his whole strength into the issues of the 
campaign. He took strong ground in favor of protection, and made that ques- 
tion the chief basis of his argument. It is nearly certain that he would have 
been triumphantly elected but for an accident occurring at the eleventh hour, 
which no care could possibly have foreseen or provided against. This is what 
has passed into history as the " Burchard incident." In the last week of the 
campaign, Mr. Blaine was visited at his hotel by a large gathering of clergymen 
of different denominations, who assembled for the purpose of making a formal 
address to him. After adopting resolutions stating their reasons for supporting 

Mr. Blaine, a committee was 



appointed to introduce him to 
the meeting. The entire body 
of clergymen went out into the 
main corridor of the hotel, and 
presently Mr. Blaine came down 
the stairway on the arm of Dr. 
King, with his wife and daugh- 
ters. He stopped a few steps 
from the foot of the stairway, 
and the Rev, Dr. Burchard ap- 
proached, addressing him as fol- 
lows : — 

' ' We are very happy to welcome 
you to this city. You see here a repre- 
sentation of all denominations of this 
city. You see the large ntmiber that are 
represented. We are your friends, Mr. 
Blaine, and, notwithstanding all the cal- 
umnies that have been urged in the 
papers against you, we stand by your 
side. (Shouts of 'Amen.') We expect 
to vote for you next Tuesday. We have 
higher expectations, whi( h are that you will be the President of the United States, and that you 
will do honor to your name, to the United States, and to the high office you will occupy. We are 
Republicans, and don't propose to leave our jjarty and identify ourselves with the party whose ante- 
cedents have been Rum, Romanism, and Rebellion. We are loyal to our flag. We are loyal to you." 

Mr. Burchard's alliterative phrase of "Rum, Romanism, and Rebellion" 
accomplished Mr. Blaine's defeat. His words were immediately taken up by 
the Democrats, who saw in them the opportunity to defeat Mr. Blaine. They 
were industriously circulated among members of the Catholic Church every- 
where, as indicating the hatred of Mr. Blaine to members of that communion. 
The result was to give Mr. Cleveland the State of New York by only looo 




BENJAMIN HARRISON. 



THE HARRISON-CLEVELAND CAMPAIGN. 443 

majority. Mr. Blaine received 182 electoral votes, and Mr. Cleveland 219. If 
the vote of New York alone had been reversed, the result would have been to 
elect Mr. Blaine by 218 votes to 183 for Mr. Cleveland. 

During Mr. Cleveland's administration Mr. Blaine remained in private life. 
Some of his time was spent in literary work and some in European travel. He 
took a keen interest in political affairs, and frequently expressed his views on 
the issues of the day through the public press ; but he had now made up his 
mind that he would never again be a candidate for the Presidency, and he made 
this intention clear to the succeeding conventions of the Republican party, where 
a strong desire for his candidacy still existed. One of his most remarkable 
utterances was made in reply to President Cleveland's message to Congress, in 
December, 1887. In this message Mr. Cleveland took strong ground in favor 
of tariff reform and freer trade. All other interests were entirely ignored, and 
the message confined to this one point. Its effect was tremendous. It was 
regarded as the platform on which Mr. Cleveland would appeal for re-election 
in the following year. The Republicans received the message with great satis- 
faction, for the tariff was the very issue on which they were most anxious to 
fight the next campaign. Mr. Blaine was at the time in Paris. An abstract of 
the President's message was published in the European newspapers the morn- 
ing after its delivery, and in the form of an interview Mr. Blaine made, in Paris, 
a full reply to President Cleveland's message, in which he supported the pro- 
tection view as opposed to that of free trade. These two documents were, in 
reality, the platform upon which the contest of 1888 was fought. Mr. Blaine 
declined a nomination so positively as to leave no doubt of his intention, and 
gave Mr. Harrison substantial aid in the campaign. The result was Mr. Harri- 
son's triumphant election ; and on his accession to office, Mr. Blaine a second 
time took the post of Secretary of State, and proceeded to carry out the policy 
which had been interrupted eight years before by the death of President 
Garfield. 

Mr. Blaine took an active part during President Harrison's administration 
in many important measures, among which were the Reciprocity amendment 
to the McKinley Tariff Bill, the settlement of the dispute with England over 
the seal fisheries in Bering Sea, the securing of indemnity from Chili for the 
killing of American sailors, and the adjustment of a diplomatic difficulty with 
Italy in consequence of the lynching of a number of Italians in New Orleans. 
The event which he considered most important, however, was the assembling 
of the Pan-American Conference, in 1889. This was a conference of represen- 
tatives of the different American governments, to consider measures for pro- 
moting peace and international good feeling, and the fostering of trade and 
ocean commerce ; and while it had no powers of legislation, great good was 
accomplished by its sessions. 



444 



JAMES G. BLAINE. 



In the last two years of Mr. Blaine's life, troubles fell upon him, " not 
singly, but in battalions." In January, 1890, Walker Blaine, his eldest son and 
trusted assistant, died suddenly, of pneumonia. Within a month afterward his 
daughter Alice died. A few weeks later he was himself prostrated by an attack 
of what proved to be paralysis, and from this time forward his health declined. 
He resigned his office in the spring of 1892, and returned to his home in Maine. 
Then another sorrow came to him in the death of his son Emmons. In Decem- 
ber he became suddenly worse, and died on January 27, 1893. 

There are few public men whose death caused so wide a sense of personal 

loss as that of Blaine. Few people 
are able to win the feeling of fami- 
liar attachment and affectionate 
loyalty which was so generally felt 
for him. " He had the rare fac- 
ulty," says Chauncey M. Depew, 
"of never forgetting a face or a 
name. It is said that Henry Clay 
possessed it ; but beyond Mr. 
Blaine, Mr. Thurlow Weed, and 
the Prince of Wales, I have never 
known any man in public or private 
life who had it Mr. Blaine would 
be introduced at some mass-meet- 
ing, or a reception in Washington, 
or at the railway station, to a farmer 
or a mechanic or a lawyer, and to- 
hundreds of them. Subsequently 
one of these men would be in his 
presence at some place distant from 
the town where the introduction, 
occurred. Mr. Blaine would take 
him by the hand, call him by name, recall the circumstances of the introduction, 
and with a cordial grasp and a peculiar look state some incident of their brief 
conversation ; and that man was ready for the rest of his life to be burned at 
the stake for James G. Blaine. . . . 

" He will stand in our history as the ablest parliamentarian and most 
skillful debater of our Congressional history. . . . He had an unusual com- 
bination of boundless audacity with infinite tact. No man during his active 
career has disputed with him his hold upon the popular imagination and his 
leadership of his party. He has left no successor who possesses, in any degree 
such as he possessed it, the affection and the confidence of his followers." 




*'*^^^^^^P*'"^'' 



CHAUN'CF.y M. DEPEW. 



ROBERT FULTON, 

THE PIONEER OK STEAIVL NAVIGATIOM. 




T is a curious and remarkable fact in the liistory of invention that 

between conception and achievement lies a gulf which many 

men of the greatest genius fail to bridge. The difficulty 

commonly lies not in making the invention, but in adapting 

it to the conditions, — in a word, in making it practical. 

Robert Fulton is distinguished as an inventor who has this 

great title to fame. He was not the inventor of steam 

navigation ; he was not even the first man to build a 

steamboat ; but he was the man who brought steamboats 

mio practical use, doing successfully the work which needed 

to be done. 

Fulton was the son of a farmer of Lancaster county, 
Pennsylvania, where he was born in 1765. He was a dull boy at study, but 
very expert at drawing, and always fond of machinery, for which he often neg- 
lected his lessons. His teacher once remonstrated with him upon his course, 
and, failing to convince him by argument, rapped him sharply over the knuckles 
with a ruler, telling him he would ina/ce him do something. Looking his tutor 
sternly in the face, he replied, "Sir, I came here to have something beat into 
my brains, not into my knuckles." 

Having determined to be an artist, Fulton went to Philadelphia, where he 
formed a friendship with Franklin. His success was rapid, and when only 
twenty-one he went to England to study. There he met Watt, who had just 
produced his steam engine, which Fulton studied enthusiastically ; and he was 
persuaded to give up the profession of art and become an engineer. Con- 
vinced that the steam engine could be applied to navigation, he plunged into 
experiments, in which he was joined by Robert R. Livingston, then minister to 
France, whose daughter Harriet afterward became Fulton's wife. Several 
models made by Fulton convinced Mr. Livingston that he had overcome the 
cause of the failure of other inventors, and it was finally agreed between thera 
to build a large boat for trial on the Seine. This experimental steamer was 
furnished with paddle-wheels, and was completed early in 1803. On the very 

447 



448 ROBERT FULTON. 

morning appointed for the trial, Fulton was aroused from his sleep by a mes- 
senger, who rushed into his chamber, pale and breathless, exclaiming, "Oh, sir, 
the boat has broken in pieces and gone to the bottom!" Hurrying to the spot, 
he found that the weight of the machinery had broken the boat in half and 
carried the whole structure to the bottom of the river. He at once set to work 
to raise the machinery, devoting twenty-four hours, without resting or eating, 
to the undertaking, and succeeded in doing so, but inflicted upon his constitu- 
tion a strain from which he never entirely recovered. The machinery' was very 
slightly damaged, but it was necessary to rebuild the boat entirely. This was 
accomplished by July of the same year, and the boat was tried in August with 
triumphant success, in the presence of the French National Institute and a 
vast crowd of the citizens of Paris. 

This steamer was very defective, but still so great an improvement upon 
all that had preceded it, that Messrs. Fulton and Livingston determined to 
build one on a larger scale, in the waters of New York. Having resolved to 
return home, Fulton set out as soon as possible, stopping in England on his 
return, to order an engine for his boat from Watt and Boulton. Scientific men 
and amateurs all agreed in pronouncing Fulton's scheme impracticable ; but 
Fulton went on with his work, his boat attracting great attention and 
exciting no less ridicule. The steam engine ordered from Watt and Boulton 
was received in the latter part of 1806 : and in the following spring the boat 
was launched from the ship-yard of Charles Brown, on the East river. Fulton 
named her the "Clermont," after the country seat of his friend and partner. 
Chancellor Livingston. She was one hundred and thirty feet long, eighteen 
feet wide, and seven feet deep. The boat was completed about the last of 
August, and she was moved by her machinery from the East river into the 
Hudson, and over to the Jersey shore. This trial, brief as it was, satisfied Ful- 
ton of its success, and he announced that in a few days the steamer would sail 
from New York for Albany. 

THE TRIAL TRII". 

Monday, September 11, 1807, the time set for sailing, came, and expecta- 
tion was at its highest. The friends of the inventor were in a state of feverish 
an.xiety lest the enterprise should come to grief and the scoffers on the wharf 
were all ready to give vent to .shouts of derision. Precisely as the hour of one 
struck, the moorings were thrown off and the " Clermont " moved slowly out 
into the stream. Volumes of smoke rushed forth from her chimney, and her 
wheels, which were uncovered, scattered the spray far behind her. The spec- 
tacle was certainly novel to the people of those days, and the crowd on the 
wharf broke into shouts of ridicule. Soon, however, the jeers grew silent, for it 
was seen that the steamer was increasing her speed. In a little while she was 
fairly under way, and making a steady progress up the stream at the rate of 



SUCCESS OF THE FIRST TRIP. 449 

five miles per hour. The increduHty of the spectators had been succeeded by 
astonishment, and now this feehng gave way to undisguised delight, and cheer 
after cheer went up from the vast throng. In a little while, however, the boat 
was observed to stop, and the enthusiasm at once subsided. The scoffers were 
again in their glory, and unhesitatingly pronounced the boat a failure. Their 
chagrin may be imagined when, after a short delay, the steamer once more 
proceeded on her way, and this time even more rapidly than before. Fulton - 
had discovered that the paddles were too long, and took too deep a hold on the 
water, and had stopped the boat for the purpose of shortening them. 

Having remedied this defect, the " Clermont " continued her voyage during 
the rest of the day and all night, without stopping, and at one o'clock the next 
day ran alongside the landing at Clermont, the seat of Chancellor Livingston. 
She lay there until nine the next morning, when she continued her voyage 
toward Albany, reaching that city at five in the afternoon. On her return trip, 
she reached New York in thirty hours running time — exactly five miles per hour. 

The river was at this time navigated entirely with sailing vessels. The sur- 
prise and dismay excited among the crews of these vessels by the appearance 
of the steamer was extreme. These simple people beheld what they supposed 
to be a huge monster, vomiting fire and smoke from its throat, lashing the water 
with its fins, and shaking the river with its roar, approaching rapidly in the face 
of both wind and tide. Some threw themselves flat on the decks of their ves- 
sels, where they remained in an agony of terror until the monster had passed, 
while others took to their boats and made for the shore in dismay, leaving their 
vessels to drift helplessly down the stream. 

The introduction of the steamboat gave a powerful impetus to the internal 
commerce of the Union. It opened to navigation many important rivers whose 
swift currents had closed them to sailing craft, and made rapid and easy com- 
munication between the most distant parts of the country practicable. The 
public soon began to appreciate this, and orders came in rapidly for steamboats 
for various parts of the country. Fulton executed these as fast as possible, and 
among the number several for boats for the Ohio and Mississippi rivers. 

Fulton followed up the "Clermont" in 1807 with a larger boat, called the 
" Car of Neptune," which was placed on the Albany route as soon as completed. 
The Legislature of New York had enacted a law, immediately upon his first 
success, giving to Livingston and himself the exclusive right to navigate the 
waters of the State by steam, for five years for every additional boat they should 
build in the State, provided the whole term should not exceed thirty years. In 
1809 Fulton obtained his first patent from the United States, and in 181 1 he 
took out a second patent. His patents were limited to the simple means of 
adapting paddle-wheels to the axle of the crank of Watt's engine. 

Meanwhile the power of the Legislature to grant the steamboat monopoly 



450 



ROBERT FULTON. 



was denied, and a company was formed at Albany to establish another line of 
steam passage boats on the Hudson, between that city and New York. Fulton 
and his partner asked an injunction, which was refused, whereupon the State 
Legislature passed a special act confirming their monopoly. Years of litigation 
followed, continuing until after Fulton's death ; and, finally, the eloquence of 
Daniel Webster prevailed against the monopoly, the Supreme Court of the 
United States deciding, in the famous "steamboat case," that all navigable 
waters are under the sole jurisdiction of the United States, and free alike to all 
citizens. 

In January, 1815, Fulton was summoned to Trenton, New Jersey, as a wit- 




MISSISSIPPI STEAMBOATS OF TO-DAV. 



ness in one of the numerous suits which grew out of the efforts to break down 
his monopoly. During his examination he was very much exposed, as the hall 
of the Legislature was uncommonly cold. In returning home, he crossed the 
Hudson in an open boat, and was detained on the river several hours. This 
severe exposure brought on an attack of sickness, which for a short time con- 
fined him to his bed. The steam frigate, then almost ready for her engines, 
occasioned him great anxiety at the time, and before he had fairly recovered 
his strength he went to the shipyard to give some directions to the workmen 
employed on her, and thus exposed himself again to the inclemency of the 
weather. In a few days his indisposition prostrated him again, and, growing 
rapidly worse, he died on the 24th of February, 181 5, at the age of fifty years. 



SAMUEL F. B. MORSE, 

THE INVENTOK. OK THE TELEGRAF>H. 



PROBABLY no other invention of 
modern times has done more to 
change the face of the world than 
the electric telegraph. The fact 
that one man in New York can 
speak to another in Texas or 
Brazil is charged with stupendous 
meaning. Through the telegraph 
the newspaper brings the whole 
earth before us at the breakfast 
table. The electric wire is like 
a nerve in the body, bringing all 
nations into sympathetic com- 
munication, dispelling ignorance 
and prejudice, and helping to 
make all men brothers. To the 
inventor of this great system is 
due a debt of gratitude that can- 
not be reckoned. 

Samuel Finley Breese Morse 
was born at Charlestown, Massa- 
chusetts, on the 27th of April, 
1 79 1. He exhibited an early 
fondness for art, as well as studies of a scientific character, and while a 
student at Yale College displayed an especial aptness for chemistry and 
natural philosophy. Upon leaving college he decided to adopt the profes- 
sion of an artist, and was sent abroad to study under the tuition of West 
and Copley and Allston. He was obliged by lack of means to return in about 
four years. His youth was spent in a struggle for success as an artist. In 
1829 he again went abroad for the purpose of completing his art studies. 
During his absence he was elected " Professor of the Literature of the Fine 

453 




SAMUEL F. B. MORSE. 



454 SAMUEL F. B. MORSE. 

Arts " in the University of the City of New York. He set out on his return 
home to accept this professorship in the autumn of 1832, sailing from Havre 
on board the packet ship "Sully." 

Among his fellow-passengers on the " Sully " were a number of persons 
of Intelligence and cultivation, one of whom had recently witnessed in Paris 
some interesting experiments with the electro-magnet, the object of which was 
to prove how readily the electric spark could be obtained from the magnet, and 
the rapidity with which it could be disseminated. To Mr. Morse the develop- 
ment of this newly-discovered property of electricit)' was more than interesting. 
It showed him his true mission in life. He thought long and earnestly upon 
the subject, pacing the deck under the silent stars. He had long been con- 
vinced that electricity was to furnish the means of rapid communication 
between distant points, of which the world was so much in need ; and he at 
once set to work to discover how this could be done. He succeeded so well 
that before the "Sully" reached New York he had conceived "not merely the 
idea of an electric telegraph, but of an electro-magnetic and recording tele- 
graph, substantially and essentially as it now exists," and had invented an 
alphabet of signs, the same in all important respects as that now in use. 

But though invented in 1832, it was not until 1835 that he was enabled to 
complete his first poor, rude instrument. By its aid he was able to send signals 
from a given point to the end of a wire half a mile in length, but as yet there 
was no means of receiving them back again from the other extremity. He con- 
tinued to experiment on his invention, and made several improvements in it. It 
was plain from the first that he needed a duplicate of his instrument at the other 
end of his wire, but for a lono- time he was unable to have one made. At length 
he acquired the necessary funds, and in July, 1837, had a duplicate instrument con- 
structed, and thus perfected his plan. His telegraph now worked to his entire 
satisfaction, and he could easily send signals to the remote end of his line and 
receive replies in return. Having brought it to a successful completion, he ex- 
hibited it to large audiences at the University of New York, in September, 1837. 

DARK DAYS. 

He now entered upon that period of the inventor's life which has proved 
to many so wearying and disheartening — the effort to bring his invention into 
general use. He applied to Congress in vain for aid. Considerable interest in 
the subject was aroused in Congress and throughout the country, but he derived 
no benefit from it. If men spoke of his telegraph, it was only to ridicule it, or 
to express their doubts of its success. He was very poor, and, as one of his 
friends has since declared, had literally "to coin his mind for bread." His 
sturdy independence of character would not allow him to accept assistance from 
any one, although there were friends ready and even anxious to help him. 



AID FROM CONGRESS. 



455 



Alone and manfully he fought his way through these dark days, still hopeful of 
success for his invention, and patiently seeking to improve it wherever oppor- 
tunity presented itself At length, in 1840, he received his long-delayed patent 
from the general government, and, encouraged by this, presented a second 
petition to Congress, asking its aid in the construction of an experimental line 
between Baltimore and Washington. He had to encounter a great degree of 
skepticism and ridicule, with many other obstacles ; but finally, on the very 
last day of the session, when he had given up all hope, a bill was passed 
appropriating thirty thousand dollars to construct the line. His dearest wish 
was at last realized, and the hour of his triumph was at hand. 

Work on the telegraph line was im- 
mediately begun, and carried on actively. 
At first, an insulated wire was buried 
under orround in a lead 




SHOP IN WHICH THE FIRST MORSE INSTRUMENT WAS CONSTRUCTED FOR EXHIBITION BEFORE CONGRESS. 



pipe, but this failing to give satisfaction, the wire was elevated upon poles. On 
the 27th of May, 1844, the line was completed, and the first trial of it made in 
the presence of the government officials and many other distinguished men. 
Professor Morse was confident of success ; but this occasion was a period of the 
most intense anxiety to him, for he knew that his entire future was staked upon 
the result of this hour. Among the company present to witness the trial was 
the Secretary of the Treasury, John C. Spencer. Although very much interested 
in the undertaking, he was entirely ignorant of the principles involved in it, and 
he asked one of Professor Morse's assistants how large a bundle could be 



456 ^^^^^B SAMUEL F. B. MORSE. 

sent over the wires, and if the United States mail could not be sent in the 
same way. 

When all was in readiness, Professor Morse seated himself at the instru- 
ment, and sent his first message to Baltimore. An answer was promptly 
returned, and messages were sent and replies received with a rapidity and accu- 
racy which placed the triumph of the invention beyond the possibility of doubt. 
Congratulations were showered upon the inventor, who received them as calmly 
as he had previously borne the scoffs of many of these same men. Yet his 
heart throbbed all the while with a brilliant triumph. Fame and fortune both 
rose proudly before him. He had won a great victory and conferred a lasting 
benefit upon his race. 

The success of the e.xperimental line brought Professor Morse numerous 
offers for the use of his invention. Telegraph companies were organized all over 
the country, and the stock issued by them was taken up as fast as offered. At 
the present day, not only the United States, but the whole world, is covered with 
telegraph lines. The Morse system is adopted on the principal lines of the 
United States, on all the lines of the Eastern continent, and e.xclusively on all 
the continental lines of Europe, from the e.xtreme Russian north to the Italian 
and Spanish south, eastward through the Turkish Empire, south into Egypt and 
northern Africa, and through India, Australia, and parts of China. 

The rapid growth of the telegraph interest of the United States placed 
Professor Morse in the possession of a large fortune, which was greatly increased 
by the adoption of his invention in Europe. Honors, too, were showered upon 
him from all parts of the world. In 1848, his a/vm mater, Yale College, con- 
ferred on him the complimentary degree of LL.D., and since then he has been 
made a member of nearly all the American scientific and art academies. From 
European governments and scientific and art associations he has received more 
honors than have ever fallen to the share of any other American. Almost every 
sovereign in the world has conferred upon Professor Morse some honor or title. 

In February, 1854, Mr. Cyrus W. Field, of New York, ignorant of Pro- 
fessor Morse's views upon this subject, wrote to him to ask if he considered 
the working of a cable across the Atlantic practicable. The Professor at once 
sought an interview with Mr. Field, and assured him of his entire confidence 
in the undertaking. He entered heartily into Mr. Field's scheme, and rendered 
great aid in the noble enterprise, which has been described elsewhere in these 
pages. He was present at each attempt to lay the cable, and participated in 
the final triumph by which his prediction, made twenty-three years previous, 
was verified. 

Professor Morse died in New York in April, 1872. 



THOMAS A. EDISON, 

A.ND OTHER QREAT INVENTORS AND THEIR 

INVENTIONS. 




ROBABLY no man in the United States is better known 
or more universally interesting than " The Wizard of 
Menlo Park," the inventor of the electric lamp, the 
dynamo, the phonograph, the "stock ticker," the elec- 
tric pen, and the mimeograph, and the discoverer and 
improver of innumerable things in the field of electricity. 
And yet, high as is the position that Edison has even 
now reached, he began at the very bottom. He was the 
son of a poor man, a village jack-of-all-trades, whose home 
was at Milan, Ohio, where the boy was born in 1847. While 
he was a child the family moved to Port Huron, Michigan. 
In his whole life Thomas had but two months of regular 
schooling ; the rest of his education was given him by his mother. But he had 
a restless, inquiring mind, an insatiable appetite for knowledge. When only 
ten years old he read Gibbon and Hume, and was fascinated by books of chem- 
istry, which he pored over long before he could pronounce the names of the 
substances which he read about. 

When Edison was twelve years of age, he became a newsboy on the Grand 
Trunk Railway. With the business of selling papers and candies on the trains, 
however, he still kept going his old hobby of chemistry, and established an 
amateur laboratory in one corner of the baggage-car, where he amused himself 
at leisure moments. One day, while he was absent from the car, a bottle of 
phosphorus was upset, and the car set on fire. This put an end to his chemi- 
cal experiments for a time. The baggage master kicked his chemical apparatus 
out of the car, and Edison was obliged to set up his business in some other 
place. 

On one of his trips to Chicago, the publisher of one of the Chicago dailies 

made him a present of a lot of worn-out type, with which Edison Improvised a 

printing-office, and began to publish a paper of his own, entitled The Grand 

Trutik Herald, which gave such items of news as the removal of a brakeman 

^7 459 



46o THOMAS A. EDISON. 

or baggage-master to New York, or told how a train hand fell and hurt his leg. 
One day, during the war, he persuaded a telegraph operator at Chicago to send 
to the principal stations on the road a bulletin of the great battle of Shiloh, in 
consequence of which, when the train arrived, great crowds of people were at 
the stations hankering after papers, which Edison sold them at an immense 
profit. This turned his attention to telegraphing, to which he soon became 
devoted. 

About this time a stroke of luck came to him in saving the child of a tele- 
graph operator from being killed by a train. The grateful father rewarded the 
boy by teaching him telegraphing. Thomas rigged up wires and batteries in 
his old home at Port Huron, and devoted all his spare hours to practice. When 
he was eighteen, he secured a position at Indianapolis, and while there he 
worked out his first invention, an automatic register for receiving messages and 
transferring them to another wire. In this rude machine was contained the 
germ of the phonograph, which he perfected years after. 

By dint of incessant practice, Edison became an extremely expert and swift 
operator ; but his usefulness was always limited by his tendency to contrive 
schemes for saving labor. On one occasion, when he was night operator, he 
was required every half hour to telegraph the word "six" to the superinten- 
dent, to show that he was awake and attending to business. The ingenious 
young man contrived a machine which did the work for him, and spent the time 
poring over his beloved chemistry. This little artifice being discovered, he lost 
his situation by his cleverness. 

The beginning of Edison's career as an inventor was not more successful than 
is usual. He was undoubtedly ingenious, but his ingenuity actually prevented 
him from being a good telegraph operator. After a time, however, he found 
his niche. He drifted to New York, where, after vainly endeavoring to interest 
the telegraph companies in his inventions, he established himself as an expert 
in odd jobs pertaining to telegraphing. One day the Western Union wire to 
Albany would not work. The company's regular electricians experimented for 
days, but without success, and finally, as a forlorn hope, Edison was sent for. 
He seated himself at the instrument and got connection with Albany by way of 
Pittsburgh. Then he called for the best operator at the other end of the line, 
and with him experimented for two hours with currents of different intensities. 
At the end of this time he told the officers that the trouble was at a certain point 
on the line, and what it was. They telegraphed the office nearest that point, 
giving the necessary directions, and in an hour the wire was working properly. 
This established his reputation as an expert, and he soon began to rise in this 
line of business. 

Edison's first large profits came to him from the "stock ticker," an inven- 
tion for reporting in brokers' ofifices the prices of stocks on the exchange, which 



WORK AT MENLO PARK. 



461 



is now in universal use. He settled himself in Newark, N. J., where he rented 
a shop and began to manufacture his machines. His connection with capitalists 

led to his making a propo- 
sition to an association of 
wealthy men to experiment 
with electric lighting, they to 
supply the capital. He re- 
moved his shop to Menlo 
iJ Park, a quiet and secluded 
place, where he carried on his 
experiments, which soon re- 
sulted in success. This placed 




him in an independent position, and from 
that time to the present his success has 
been only a question of degree. 

Edison is a man of infinite pertinacity and great endurance. When he 
becomes interested in solving an important question, he is entirely oblivious of 



462 THOMAS A. EDISON. 

the passage of time and of physical needs. At one time, when his printing 
telegraph for some reason gave out and ceased to work, he worked for sixty 
hours without intermission, taking no sleep or rest, having for his only food 
crackers and cheese, at which he nibbled from time to time as he worked. At 
another time all of the electric lamps burning in Menlo Park suddenly gave out. 
The inventor was almost stunned. For five days he worked at the problem, 
giving neither himself nor his assistants any rest. At the end of that time the 
difficulty was still unsolved, and Edison went to bed sick with disappointment 
and anxiety. Ordinarily he is one of the most considerate of men, but on this 
occasion he was much surprised when, at the end of fifteen hours' incessant 
work, it was suggested that rest and refreshments were in order. Time proved 
the trouble to be in the imperfect exhaustion of the air from the globes in which 
the filament burned, and long and persevering application was required to 
devise means for more completely exhausting it. Finally this was accomplished, 
and the incandescent light became a practical success. 

Edison's mind is that of the typical inventor. He says of himself that his 
first thought on looking at any machine or contrivance whatever is to imagine 
how it could be improved. With him it is a maxim that " whatever is, is wrong," 
or at least that it might and ought to be better. This peculiarity has made him 
one of the most fertile inventors of history, but it also results in his being 
entirely wrapped up in the one absorbing pursuit. His ideal of luxury, when 
riches came to him, was not fast horses, or social enjoyment, or even distinction, 
but a perfect workshop, which had hitherto cost so much as to be unattainable 
to him. In his laboratory he has gathered every substance known to science- 
solid, fluid, and gas. Every effort is made to have at his command all the 
known resources of scientific research. Forty-five scientific journals, in different 
languages, are received in his library, and systematically indexed as fast as 
received, so that every item of information which they contain is right at his 
hand at any moment. In such respects Edison's workshop at Menlo Park is 
unique. It is hard to conceive of a chemical or mechanical experiment for 
which he is not perfectly equipped. 

Edison says of himself that he is a poor business man. He hates routine. 
Going over and over again the regular round of a business system is intoler- 
able to him. Most men are creatures of habit, and need to have their daily task 
laid out for them. They want to work without thinking. Edison cannot. His 
thought runs away with him. This tendency of his mind is well illustrated by 
his experience in manufacturing. When he had perfected his " stock ticker," 
he took a contract to manufacture some hundreds of them at a shop at Newark, 
N. J. "I was a poor manufacturer," he declares, "because I could not let well 
enough alone. My first impulse, upon taking in my hand any machine, from 
an egg-beater to an electric motor, is to seek a way of improving It. Therefore, 



OTHER GREAT INVENTORS. 



463 



as soon as I have finished a machine I am anxious to take it apart again in order 
to make an experiment. That is a costly mania for a manufacturer." 

The visitor to Edison's laboratory finds the master a rather tall, compactly- 
built man, with a somewhat boyish, clean-shaven face, which seems made prema- 
turely old by intense thought and application. Over his clothes he wears a 
blouse, which is stained with acids. " Good clothes are thrown away on me," 
he says. " I feel it is wrong to wear any, and I never put on a new suit when I 
can help it." His hands are discolored with chemicals and oil, and his hair has 
also received some touches, for he has a habit of wiping his fingers upon it. He 
is somewhat deaf, and watches his visitor's lips closely to catch what he is saying. 
He is kind and genial, and patient in explanation to those of inquiring minds. 

Edison is one of the busiest men in the world. Each invention or improve- 
ment seems only to widen the field. "These are only tools," he says, "with 
which we may accomplish still greater wonders. The very fact that this cen- 
tury has accomplished so much in the way of invention makes it more thaa 
probable that the next century will do far greater things." 



OTHER GREAT INVENTORS AND THEIR INVENTIONS. 

Great inventions are not necessarily large or costly. The scythe is a simple 
tool, and inexpensive ; yet the practical perfecting of it by Joseph Jenks, almost 
at the outset of farm-life in New England, is 
an epoch-mark in agriculture. It was the 
beginning of a new order of things. Putting 
curved fingers to the improved scythe-blade 
and snath furnished the American grain 
cradle, a farm-tool perfect of its kind, and 
likely to hold its place as long as grain is 
grown on uneven ground. 

The plow supplied to the Colonial farm- 
ers was as venerable as the reaping-hook. 
It had been substantially unimproved for 
four thousand years. The moment our peo- 
ple were free to manufacture for themselves, 
they set about its improvement in form and 
material ; the very first patent granted by the 
Patent Office being for an improved plow of 

cast-iron. The best plow then in use was a rude affair, clumsily made, hard to 
guide, and harder to draw. Its improvement engaged the attention of many 




A COLONIAL SPINNING-WHEET. 



464 



OTHER GREAT INVENTORS. 



inventors, notably President Jefferson, who experimented with various forms, 
and made a mathematical investigation of the shape of the mould-board, to 
determine the form best suited for the work. He was the first to discover the 
importance of straight lines from the sole to the top of the share and mould- 
board. Colonel Randolph, Jefferson's 
son-in-law, "the best farmer in Virginia," 
invented a side-hill plow. Smith was the 
first to hitch two plows together ; and 
Allen, by combining a number of small 
plow-points in one implement, led the way 
to the production of the infinite variety of 
horse-hoes, cultivators, and the like. But 
Jethro Wood, of New York, probably did 
more than any other man to perfect the 
cast-iron plow, and to secure its general 
use in place of the cumbrous plows of the 
earlier days. His skill as an inventor, and his pluck as a fighter again.st stolid 
ignorance and prejudice, for the advancement of sensible plowing, cost him — 
what they ought to have gained for him — a fortune. The use of cast-iron 
plows had become general by 1825. 




COLONIAL PLOW WITH WOODEN MOLD-BOARD. 



ELI WHITNEY AND THE COTTON-GIN. 

Whitney was a New England genius, who graduated at Yale in 1792, and 
went to Georgia to teach school, living in the family of General Greene's widow. 
Having heard much of the slow and 
tedious work of separating the cotton 
from the seed, Whitney undertook to 
make a machine for doing the work, 
which he did in the same year, 1792. 
When it was introduced, the entire cot- 
ton crop of the country could have been 
grown on a single field of two hundred 
acres. A good day's work for a man 
was cleaning four or five pounds of lint, 
or a bale of cotton in three months. 
Whitney's gin enabled a man to do the 
same work in six days. As a conse- 
quence of the cheaper and more rapid means of preparing it with the Whitney 
gin, the cotton crop of the South rose to sudden prominence. In 1800 it was 
eighteen million pounds ; the next year, forty million. Ten years later it was 
eighty million pounds, which product was more than doubled in the next ten 




A NEW ENGLAND WEAVER WINDING THE SPOOLS. 



Mccormick and evans. 465 

years. In 1830 it was a million bales; two millions in 1840; three in 1851 ; 
and four in i860. Without it modern cotton crops of eight or nine million bales 
would be impossible ; simply to pick the seeds out of the crop of 1891 in the old 
way would have kept the entire working population of the United States busy 
for a solid month. 

It is sad to have to add that Whitney's invention was so extensively pirated 
that he derived but little benefit from an invention which has added almost 
untold wealth to the country and the world. 

CYRUS H. Mccormick and the reaping-machine. 

The circumstance that reaping by machinery was as old as the Christian era, 
and a multitude of comparatively modern attempts had been made, particularly 
in England, to apply horse-power to the cutting of grass and grain, only added 
to the merit of inventors like Hussey and McCormick, who practically solved 
the problems involved by means so simple and efficient that they have not been 
and are likely never to be entirely displaced. Hussey's mowing-machine of 
1833 had reciprocating knives working through slotted fingers, a feature essen- 
tial to all practical grass and grain cutters. McCormick patented a combination 
reaper and mower in 1834, which he subsequently so improved as to make it 
the necessary basis of all reapers. In competitive trials at home and abroad, 
the American mowers and reapers have never failed to demonstrate their superi- 
ority over all others. 

Their first great victory, which gave them the world-wide fame they have 
so successfully maintained, was won in London in 185 1. In the competitive trial 
near Paris, in 1855, the American machine cut an acre of oats in twenty-two 
minutes ; the English in sixty-six minutes ; the French in seventy-two. In the 
later competition, local and international, their superior efficiency has been not 
less signally manifested. 

OLIVER EVANS AND THE STEAM ENGINE. 

One of the most fertile inventors of the eighteenth century was Oliver 
Evans, who deserves immortal fame as the developer of the modern "high-pres- 
sure" or non-condensing engine, and the pioneer in improved milling machinery. 
As early as 1 768 he was experimenting with steam, and was able to drive a 
small boat by means of steam and paddle-wheels. In 1786 he applied to the 
State of Pennsylvania for a patent on the application of his engine to driving 
mills, and to a steam carriage, but his petition was denied. There was then no 
national patent office for the encouragement of men of original ideas ; if there 
had been, the practical development of the steamboat and the steam-carriage 
might have been materially hastened, for Evans was diverted from this line of 
work for a dozen years or more. In 1 800 he returned to it, and built a novel non- 



466 



OTHER GREAT INVENTORS. 



condensing engine, designed for application to a steam-carriage, but for financial 
reasons set to working a plaster mill. A year or two after he built an engine of 
150 horse-power for parties in New Orleans, who set it up in the boat for which 
it was intended. But a long season of low water prevented a trial of the boat, 
and wasted capital compelled the owners to take the engine out and set it to 
work in a lumber mill, where it did such good service that the steamboat project 
was abandoned. It was thus no fault of Evans that the pioneer engine, of the 
type afterward adopted for western river navigation, did not win for him the 
fame subsequently achieved by Fulton. In 1804 Evans built for Philadelphia a 




rKIMlTlVE MOUES OK GRINDING CORN. 



Steam -dredger, which, set on wheels, propelled itself along the streets to the 
river, where it was launched and the engine applied to its stern-wheel, when as 
a steamboat it was navigated about the Schuylkill. 



JACOB PERKINS AND THE NAIL MACHINE. 

The first single machine of American production to become widely famous 
was the nail machine of Jacob Perkins. Perkins was born in Newburyport, 
Massachusetts, in 1766, and patented his great machine in 1795. At that time 
nails were mostly imported, and cost twenty-five cents a pound. They were all 
hand-wrought, chiefly at chimney-corner forges, where, in New England, farmers 



PERKINS AND HIS NAIL MACHINE. 



467 



and lumbermen, fishermen and laborers, employed their evenings and other odd 
times in hammering nails. In Europe, more especially in the manufacturing 
districts of England, it was a common domestic industry, often employino- whole 
families, but chiefly women and children, ill-paid, over-worked, and toiling under 

social conditions of the most appalling 
character. The American nail machine 
promptly displaced this domestic industry 
here, and more slowly that of Europe, by 
making it possible to use power in nail- 
making, while enabling a workman to 
do in a minute the previous task of an 
hour. The price of nails was speedily 
reduced two-thirds, subsequently much 
more, with an assured supply equal to 
any demand. The early cut nails were 




not so touifh as the 



A GREAT MODERN FLOUR MILL. 



hand-made nails, but for 
most purposes they were 
neater and better; while any 
desired toughness was ulti- 
mately secured by annealing, and 
by the use of steel, particularly 

steel wire. Every style of nail, from the smallest tack to the railroad spike, is 
now made by machinery, at a cost but little above that of the raw metal, the 
forms being as various as their manifold uses. The manufacture of cut 
nails has become one of the most important of the great iron industries of 
the country. 



468 HOWE AND JEROME. 

ELIAS HOWE AND THE SEWING MACHINE. 

Howe was born at Spencer, Massachusetts, in 1819. While employed as 
a machinist he made many experiments and efforts to invent a sewing machine, 
and after great discouragements completed one, tor which he secured a patent 
in 1846. Though the practical parent of the modern sewing machine, it was 
not in itself a successful machine, nor was Howe at first successful in enlisting 
capital to aid him in developing from it a good machine. In the course of four 
or five years the defective details were corrected or displaced by the work of 
other inventors in great numbers, who attacked the problems of the sewing 
machine as soon as their importance became generally appreciated. The Singer 
machine, which closely resembled Howe's, came into the field in 1850, and took 
the lead in sales until 1854. The Grover & Baker machine became most popu- 
lar for four or five years •, then the Wheeler & Wilson for ten years. In the 
meantime, all the companies were infringing on the rights of Howe, who, after 
expensive litigation, won his case, and entered into an agreement with the great 
manufacturing companies, receiving five dollars for each machine made until 
i860; after that, one dollar a machine. Between 1856 and 1877, over six mil- 
lion machines were sold in the United States. Though the great bulk of these 
machines are held for family use, the factory machines were estimated to give 
(the world over) employment to 20,000,000 persons, mostly women. In social, 
not less than in industrial effects the sewing machine has been simply revolu- 
tionary. 

CHAUNCEY JEROME AND AMERICAN CLOCKS. 

The pioneer in American clock-making was Eli Terry, of Plymouth, Con- 
necticut, who was also the first clock peddler in the beginning of the present 
century. As the means and methods of cutting the wooden wheels were 
improved, the clocks were greatly cheapened. Chauncey Jerome, an apprentice 
of Terry, was especially successful in reducing the cost and improving the quality 
of these primitive time-keepers. In 1837, Mr. Jerome brought out the machine- 
made brass clock, which revolutionized the business of clock-making and sent a 
timepiece into every house. In 1841 he sent a cargo of Connecticut clocks to 
England, billed at so low a ficrure that the customs officers seized them for under- 
valuation, paying him his price plus ten per cent., as the law directed. The 
second cargo, much to his delight, met with the same reception. With the third, 
the tardily-enlightened Government allowed him to seek a less convenient cus- 
tomer. The metal movements were stamped from sheet-brass so rapidly that 
three men with one machine could cut out the works of five hundred clocks a 
day, reducing the cost of a clock-movement to fifty cents. At this rate the sale 
was enormous. The metal clocks, unlike the wooden clocks, could stand any 
climate, and this, with their astonishing cheapness, gave them world-wide 
acceptance. 



JOHN JACOB ASTOR, 



OUR PIONEER BUSINESS IvIA.N AND FIRST 

IvIILLIONAIRE. 



"1 NEVER were greater extremes of poverty and 
wealth connected in the life of one person than 
were touched by John Jacob Astor, the founder 
of one of the first and greatest of the enormous 
fortunes that have been amassed in America. 
The life of a poor German peasant in the latter 
part of the eighteenth century reached a depth 
of poverty which can now hardly be conceived. 
John Jacob Astor was born in Waldorf, a litde 
village of Baden, in 1763, — the year of the 
treaty which secured to England all the fur- 
bearing country of North America, from which 
Astor was destined to make such a splendid 
fortune. His father was a butcher, a shiftless, 
stupid, quarrelsome good-for-nothing ; and the 
son, bent upon making something of himself, 
resolved, when about nineteen, to seek his 
fortune in the " new land " of America, then 
brought into prominence by the Revolution. 

In March, 1784, he landed at Baltimore. 
On the voyage he met a German, older than 
himself who, beginning with almost nothing, 
had become a fur trader, and made large 
profits. He advised Astor to embark in the 
same business, which he proceeded to do. He 
had a brother living in New York, whither he 
went, and succeeded in getting a position in 
the fur store of Robert Bowne, a Quaker, 
where he set himself to learn the business in 
the most thorough manner. He bent all the 
powers of his remarkable mind to acquiring an intimate knowledge of furs, and 

471 




A MODERN NEW YORK STORE. 



472 ^^^^"^ JOHN JACOB ASTOR. 

of fur-bearing animals, and their haunts and habits. His opportunities for doing 
so were very good, as many of the skins were sold over Bowne's counters by 
the hunters who had taken them. These men he questioned with a minuteness 
that astonished them, and the result was that in a few years he was as thor- 
oughly familiar with the animals, their habits, their country, and the mode of 
taking them, as many of the trappers themselves. He is said to have been in 
his prime the best judge of furs in America. 

As soon as Astor felt himself master of his business, he left the employ of 
Mr. Bowne, and began life on his own account. The field upon which he pur- 
posed entering was extensive, but it was one of which he had made a careful sur- 
vey. The fur trade was at this time almost wholly in the hands of three English 
companies — the Hudson's Bay Company in the north, the Northwest Company 
in the Canadas, the Mackinaw Company in the territories of the United States 
— and the few American traders in the field had to rely on their individual 
resources, with no aid from a grovernment too feeble to do more than establish a 
few Indian agencies, and without constitutional power to confer charter privileges. 

The voyage of Captain Cook had brought to the notice of the fur dealers 
of the world the sea otter of the northern Pacific, and the announcement made 
upon the return of the expedition drew large numbers of adventurers to the 
•west coast of America, in search of the valuable skins of these animals. 

It was into this field, already occupied by powerful and hostile corporations, 
that the young German entered. He began business in 1786, in a small store 
in Water street, which he furnished with a few toys and notions suited to the 
tastes of the Indians who had skins to sell. His entire capital consisted of 
only a few hundred dollars, a portion of which was loaned him by his brother. 
He had no assistants. He did all his own work. He bought his skins, cured, 
beat, and sold them himself 

Several times during the year he made journeys on foot through western 
New York, buying skins from the settlers, farmers, trappers, savages, wherever 
he could find them. He tramped over nearly the entire State in this way, and 
is said to have had a better knowledge of its geography and topography than 
any man living. 

He used to boast, late in life, when the Erie Canal had called into being a 
line of thrivine towns through the centre of the State, that he had himself, in 
his numberless tramps, designated the sites of those towns, and predicted that 
one day they would be the centres of business and population. Particularly he 
noted the spots where Rochester and Buffalo now stand, one having a harbor 
on Lake Erie and the other upon Lake Ontario. He predicted that those 
places would one day be large and prosperous cities ; and that prediction he 
made when there was scarcely a settlement at Buffalo, and only wigwams on 
the site of Rochester. 



EXTENDING HIS OPERATIONS. 



473 



Slowly, and by unremitting industry, Mr. Astor succeeded in building up 
a certain business. His personal journeys made him acquainted with the 
trappers, and enabled him to win their good will. The savages sold their skins 
to him readily, and he found a steady market and a growing demand for his 
commodities in the Old World. 

It was about this time that he married Miss Sarah Todd, of New York. 
She entered heartily into his business, doing much of the buying and beating 
of the furs herself Lonsf after he was a millionaire he used to boast of her 
skill in judging furs and conducting business operations. 

In 1 794, Jay's treaty placed the frontier forts in the hands of the Amer- 
icans, and thus increased the opportunities of our own traders to extend their 




CHAMPLAIN'S fortified camp in QUEBEC. 



business. It was of the greatest service to Mr. Astor. It enabled him to 
enlarge the field of his operations, and, at the same time, to send his agents 
on the long journeys which he formerly made, while he himself remained in 
New York to direct his business, which by this time had grown to considerable 
proportions. 

He was now on the road to wealth. He had scores of trappers and 
hunters working for him in the great wilderness, and his agents were kept busy 
buying and shipping the skins to New York. As soon as he was able to do 
so he purchased a ship, in which he sent his furs to London, occasionally 
making a voyage thither himself 

Under his skillful management his business grew rapidly ; but he avoided 
speculation and confined himself to legitimate commerce. He was plain and 



474 JOHN JACOB ASTOR. 

simple in his habits, carrying this trait to an extreme long after economy had 
ceased to be necessary to him. He worked hard, indulged in no pleasures 
except horseback exercise and the theatre, of both which he was very fond. 
It was only after he had amassed a large fortune that he ever left his business 
before the close of the day. Then he would leave his counting-room at two 
in the afternoon, and, partaking of an early dinner, would pass the rest of the 
day in riding about the island. So plain was his style of living that, before he 
became generally known as a wealthy man, a bank clerk once superciliously 
informed him that his endorsement of a note would not be sufficient, as it was 
not likely he would be able to pay it in case the bank should be forced to call 
upon him. 

"Indeed ! " said Mr. Astor ; "how much do you suppose I am worth? " 

The clerk named a very moderate amount, at which the merchant 
smiled quietly. 

"Would the indorsement of Mr. , or Mr. , be sufficient?" asked 

Mr. Astor, naming several well-known merchants who lived in great style. 

" Entirely sufficient," was the reply. " Each one of them is known to be 
wealthy." 

" How much do you think each is worth ? " 

The clerk named larjje sums in connection with each of the o-entlemen. 

"Well, my friend," said the merchant, "I am worth more than any of 
them. I will not tell you how much I am worth, but it is more than any sum 
you have named." 

The clerk looked at him in surprise, and then said, bluntly : " Then you 
are a greater fool than I took you for, to work as hard as you do." 

Mr. Astor was very fond of telling this story, which he regarded as one 
of the best jokes of the day. 

All this time Mr. Astor had lived over his store, but in 1800, after he had 
been in business fifteen years, he moved his dwelling to 223 Broadway, on the 
site of the Astor House of to-day. He lived here, with one removal, for up- 
ward of twenty-five years. The house was plain and simple, but he was 
satisfied with it. He was now worth a quarter of a million dollars, and his 
business was growing rapidly. The fur trade was exceedingly profitable. A 
beaver skin could be bought from the trappers in western New York for one 
dollar and sold in London for six dollars and a quarter. By investing this 
amount in English manufactures, the six dollars and a quarter received for the 
skin could be made to produce ten dollars paid for the English goods in 
New York. 

The Chinese trade was also very profitable. China was an excellent 
market for furs. They brought high prices, and the proceeds could always 
be invested in teas and silks, which sold well in New York. His profit on a 



476 



JOHN JACOB ASTOR. 



I 



voyage would sometimes reach seventy thousand dollars, and the average gain 
on a lucky venture of this kind was thirty thousand dollars. The high prices 
produced by the war of 1812-15 were also in Mr. Astor's favor. His ships 
were all remarkably lucky in escaping capture by the enemy, and he was 
almost the only merchant who had a cargo of tea in the market. Tea 
having reached double its usual price, he was enabled to reap immense profits 

from his ventures. 

The most important of all 
of Mr. Astor's undertakino-s was 
his effort at founding the settle- 
ment of Astoria, on the coast of 
Oregon. " His design," says a 
writer, " was to organize and 
control the fur trade from the 
lakes to the Pacific, by establish- 
ing trading posts along the Mis- 
souri and Columbia to its mouth. 
He desigrned establishinor a cen- 
tral depot and post at the mouth 
of the Columbia river. He pro- 
posed sending regular supply 
ships to the Pacific posts around 
Cape Horn. It was part of his 
plan, if possible, to obtain pos- 
session of one of the Sandwich 
Islands as a station, for from the 
Pacific coast he knew that the 
Chinese market for his peltries 
could be most conveniently 
reached, and thus the necessity 
for a long and circuitous voyage 
be avoided. Instead of brineincr 
the furs intended for China to 
New York, they could be sent 
from the Pacific. By the supply ships, too, the stock of goods suitable for the 
Indian trade would be kept up there, and the cargoes purchased with the pro- 
ceeds of the furs sold in China brought back to New York. The line of posts 
across the continent would become a line of towns ; emigration would follow, 
and civilization would belt the continent." 

A company was formed, at the head of which stood Mr. Astor, and an 
elaborate and carefully arranged plan of operations prepared. Two expeditions 




ANCIENT BLOCK HOUSE, ALASKA. 



FAILURE OF THE ASTORIA SCHEME. ^jj 

were dispatched to the mouth of the Cohimbia, one by land, the other by sea. 
Many hardships were encountered, but the foundation of a settlement was suc- 
cessfully made on the Columbia. In spite of the war with England (1812-15), 
the enterprise would have been successful had Mr. Astor's positive instruc- 
tions been obeyed. They were utterly disregarded, however, and his partners 
and agents not only betrayed him in every instance, but sold his property to a 
rival British company for a mere trifle. His pecuniary loss was over a million 
dollars, and his disappointment bitter beyond expression. When the news of 
the final betrayal reached him, he wrote : " Had our place and property been 
fairly captured, I should have preferred it ; I should not feel as if I were dis- 
graced." 

Mr, Astor remained in active business for fifty years. During that entire 
period he scarcely committed an error of judgment which led to a loss in busi- 
ness. He was thorough master of everything pertaining to his affairs, and his 
strength and accuracy of judgment were remarkable. The particulars of his 
transactions were indelibly impressed upon his mind. His intellect was vigor- 
ous and quick, and he grasped a subject with a readiness which seemed like 
intuition. He was always careful of the present, but he loved to undertake 
enterprises which extended far into the future. He was a man of the utmost 
punctuality in all his habits. He rose early, and, until he was fifty-five years 
old, was always in his office before seven o'clock. His capacity for work was 
very great, so that, in spite of his heavy labors, he was always able to leave his 
office by two o'clock, while many of his associates, who really did less than he, 
were compelled to remain in their counting-rooms until four or five. 

One chief source of Mr. Astor's great wealth was his shrewd investments 
in real estate, and the great rise in values of New York property which have 
resulted from the steady growth of the greatest city of the American continent. 
In the early part of his career New York was little more than a town occupymg 
part of the lower end of Manhattan Island ; the upper end was occupied chiefly 
by farms and country residences. Mr. Astor, with shrewd foresight, systemati- 
cally invested his spare capital in suburban land, which before the time of his 
death had by its increase in value added many millions to the great estate which 
he left to his children. 

During the last twenty years of his life Mr. Astor lived in the retirement 
of his family, leaving even the greater part of the management of his estate to 
the hands of others. He was exceedingly fond of literary men. Irving was 
his friend, and Halleck his business manager. He died at the age of eighty-four 
years and eight months, literally from old age. He was buried in St. Thomas's 
Church, on Broadway. 

His immense estate was left to his children, the bulk of it being bequeathed 
to his eldest son. All of his relatives were made comfortable. The village of 
28 



478 JOHN JACOB ASTOR. 

Waldorf, his native place, received a legacy of fifty thousand dollars for the 
benefit of its poor, and an amount in land and funds equal to four hundred 
thousand dollars was left to certain trustees to establish the Astor Library in 
the city of New York. Besides these, several charitable and benevolent asso- 
ciations received handsome donations from him. 

His career has been related in these pages as an example to those who are 
seekinor to rise in legitimate commerce. It is the best instance on record of the 
facility with which success may be won by patient and intelligent industry. In 
his capacity for grasping and carrying out an enterprise, in his prudent and 
economical management of his business, in his tact, courage, sagacity, Mr. 
Astor's example is one which will lead many to success, and none to injury. 




48o 




GEORGE PEABODY, 

OUR KIRST rvlILLIONAIRB PHILANTHROF'IST. 



'MONG the distinctive products of the nineteenth century is 
the modern miUionaire ; and hke other products, this one has 
been greatly developed and improved from the crude form 
in which it first appeared. One would hardly recognize, 
in contemplating the works of George W. Childs or 
rk^ Leland Stanford, that they belonged to the same species as 
Stephen Girard and John Jacob Astor. The first million- 
^ aires could only get ; they could not give. They could 

^j* leave — since indeed they could not help leaving ; but as to volun- 
tarily giving what they had got, that faculty was not yet devel- 
oped. The two qualities were, in fact, quite naturally supposed to be 
incompatible. A rich man who scattered his riches seemed an ab- 
surdity — a contradiction in terms. But presently arose a man who showed 
how such a thing could be, by being it. He invented, and in himself developed, 
a new and most beneficent function ; and to him, as to other great inventors 
and pioneers, mankind loves to pay tribute of well-deserved love and honor. 
His name is George Peabody. 

Mr. Peabody was born in Danvers, Massachusetts, on February i8, 1795. 
His parents were poor, and hard work was the lot to which he was born. His 
education was limited, for he was taken from school at the age of eleven, and 
set to earning his living. Upon leaving school he was apprenticed to a Mr. 
Sylvester Proctor, who kept a "country store" in Danvers. Here he worked 
hard and faithfully for four or five years, devoting himself with energy and 
determination to business. His mind matured more rapidly than his body, and 
he was a man in intellect long before he was out of his teens. 

At the age of sixteen, in the year 181 1, he went to Newburyport, and 
became a clerk in the store of his elder brother, David Peabody, who was 
engaged in the dry goods business at that place. He exhibited unusual capa- 
city and promise in his calling, and soon drew upon himself the favorable atten- 
tion of the merchants of the place. He was prompt, reliable, and energetic, 
and from the first established an enviable reputation for personal and profes- 

481 



482 GEORGE PEABODY. 

sional integrity. He did not stay long in Newburyport, as a great fire, which 
burned up a considerable part of the town, destroyed his brother's store, and 
obliged him to seek employment elsewhere. 

From New England, George Peabody turned his face southward, and 
entered the employment of his uncle, Mr. John Peabody, who was engaged in 
the dry goods business in Georgetown, in the District of Columbia. His uncle 
was a poor man and a bad manager, and for two years the business was con- 
ducted by George Peabody, and in his own name ; but at the end of that time, 
seeing the business threatened with ruin by his uncle's incapacity, he resigned 
his situation, and entered the service of Mr. Elisha Riggs, who had just estab- 
lished a wholesale dry goods house in Georgetown. Mr. Riggs furnished the 
capital for the concern, and Mr. Peabody was given the management of it. 
Soon after this, the latter became a partner in the house. It is said that when 
Mr. Riggs invited Mr. Peabody to become his partner, the latter informed him 
that he could not legally assume the responsibilities of business, as he was only 
nineteen years old. This was no objection in the mind of the merchant, as he 
wanted a young and active assistant, and had discerned in his boy-manager 
the qualities which never fail to win success. 

The new business in which he was engaged consisted chiefly In the impor- 
tation and sale of European goods, and consignments of dry goods from the 
northern cities. It extended over a wide field, and gave Mr. Peabody a fine 
opportunity for the display of his abilities. Mr. Riggs's friends blamed him 
very much for leaving his business so entirely in the hands of a boy of nine- 
teen ; but he had better proof than they that his affairs were not only in good, 
but in the best hands, and he answered them all by telling them that time 
would justify his course. Mr. Peabody traveled extensively in establishing his 
business, often journeying into the wild and unsettled regions of the border 
States on horseback. He worked with energy and intelligence, and in 1815 
the business was found to be so extensive that a removal to Baltimore became 
necessary. About this time a banking business was added to the operations 
of the house. This was chiefly the suggestion of Mr. Peabody, and proved a 
source of great profit. 

Mr. Peabody quickly took a prominent rank among the merchants of 
Baltimore. His manner was frank and engaging, and won him many friends. 
He was noted for "a judgment quick and cautious, clear and sound, a decided 
purpose, a firm will, energetic and persevering industry, punctuality and fidelity 
in every engagement, justice and honor controlling every transaction, and 
courtesy — that true courtesy which springs from genuine kindness — presiding 
over the intercourse of life." His business continued to increase, and in 1822 
it became necessary to establish branches in Philadelphia and New York, over 
which Mr. Peabody exercised a careful supervision. He was thoroughly 



REMOVAL TO ENGLAND. 



483 



familiar with every detail of his business, and never suffered his vigilance to 
relax, however competent might be the subordinates in the immediate charge 
of those details. In 1827 he went to England on business for his firm, and dur- 
ing the next ten years made frequent voyages between New York and London. 

In 1829 Mr. Riggs withdrew from the firm, and Mr. Peabody became the 
actual head of the house, the 

style of the firm, which had h«*^->- ' ' ~~' —"-""i k^s^^ 
previously been " Riggs & 
Peabody," being changed to 
"Peabody, Riggs & Co." 
The firm had for some time 
been the financial agents of 
the State of Maryland, and 
had managfed the negfotia- 
tions confided to them with 
great skill and success ; and 
every year their banking de- 
partment became more im- 
portant and more profitable. 

In 1836 Mr. Peabody 
determined to extend his 
business, which was 'already 
very large, to England, and 
to open a branch house in 
London. In 1837 he re- 
moved to that city for the 
purpose of taking charge of 
his house there, and from 
that time London became 
his home. 

The summer of this 
year was marked by one of 
the most terrible commercial 
crises the United States has 
ever known. A large num- 
ber of the banks suspended 

specie payment, and the majority of the mercantile houses were either ruined 
or in the greatest distress. Thousands of merchants, until then prosperous, 
were hopelessly ruined. "That great sympathetic nerve of the commercial 
world, credit," said Edward Everett, "as far as the United States was con- 
cerned, was for the time paralyzed. At that moment Mr. Peabody not only 




MODERN STORES IN BOSTON. 



484 GEORGE PEABODY. 

stood firm himself, but was the cause of firmness in others. There were 
not at that time, probably, half a dozen other men in Europe who, upon the 
subject of American securities, would have been listened to for a moment in 
the parlor of the Bank of England. But his judgment commanded respect ; 
his integrity won back the reliance which men had been accustomed to place 
on American securities. The reproach in which they were all involved was 
gradually wiped away from those of a substantial character ; and if, on this 
solid basis of unsuspected good faith, he reared his own prosperity, let it be 
remembered that at the same time he retrieved the credit of the State of Mary- 
land, of which he was agent — performing that miracle by which the word of an 
honest man turns paper into gold." 

The conduct of Mr. Peabody, as well as the evidences which he gave of his 
remarkable capacity for business, in this crisis, placed him among the foremost 
merchants of London. He carried on his business upon a large scale from his 
base of operations in that city. He bought British manufactures in all parts of 
England and shipped them to the United States. His vessels brought back in 
return all kinds of American produce which would command a ready sale in 
England. Profitable as these ventures were, there was another branch of his 
business much more remiinerative to him. The merchants and manufacturers 
on both sides of the Atlantic who consigned their goods to him, frequently pro- 
cured from him advances upon the goods long before they were sold. At other 
times they would leave large sums in his hands long after the goods were dis- 
posed of knowing that they could draw whenever they needed, and that in the 
meanwhile their money was being so profitably invested that they were certain 
of a. proper interest for their loans. Thus Mr. Peabody gradually became a 
banker, in which pursuit he was as successful as he had been as a merchant. In 
1843 '"'^ withdrew from the house of Peabody, Riggs & Co., and established the 
house of " George Peabody & Company, of Warnford Court, City." 

His dealings were chiefly with America and in American securities, and he 
was always regarded as one of the best specimens of the American merchant 
ever seen in London. He was very proud of his country ; and though he 
passed so many years of his life abroad, he never forgot that he was an Amer- 
ican. In speaking of the manner in which he organized his business establish- 
ment, he once said : " I have endeavored, in the constitution of its members and 
the character of its business, to make it an American house, and to give it an 
American atmosphere ; to furnish it with American journals ; to make it a cen- 
tre of American news, and an agreeable place for my American friends visiting 
London." 

It was his custom, from his first settlement In England, to celebrate the 
anniversary of the independence of his country by an entertainment at one of 
the public houses in the city, to which the most distinguished Americans in 



AID TO AMERICAN EXHIBITORS IN 1851. 485 

London were always invited, as were also many of the prominent men of Great 
Britain ; and this dinner was only discontinued in deference to the general cele- 
bration of the day which was afterward instituted by the whole body of Ameri- 
cans resident in the British metropolis. In the year 1851, when it was thought 
that there would be no representation of the achievements of American skill 
and industry in the great exhibition of that year, from a lack of funds, Mr. 
Peabody generously supplied the sum of fifteen thousand dollars, which enabled 
the commissioners to make a suitable display of the American contributions. 
Said the Hon. Edward Everett, alluding to this act : — • 

" In most, perhaps in all other countries, this exhibition had been a govern- 
ment affair. Commissioners were appointed by authority to protect the interests 
of the exhibitors ; and, what was more important, appropriations of money had 
been made to defray their expenses. No appropriations were made by Con- 
gress. Our exhibitors arrived friendless, some of them penniless, in the greaj 
commercial Babel of the world. They found the portion of the Crystal Palace 
assigned to our country unprepared for the specimens of art and industry which 
they had brought with them ; naked and unadorned by the side of the neighbor- 
ing arcades and galleries fitted up with elegance and splendor by the richest 
governments in Europe. The English press began to launch its too ready sar- 
casms at the sorry appearance which Brother Jonathan seemed likely to make ; 
and all the exhibitors from this country, as well as those who felt an interest in 
their success, were disheartened. At this critical moment, our friend stepped 
forward. He did what Congress should have done. By liberal advances on 
his part, the American department was fitted up ; and day after day, as some 
new product of American ingenuity and taste was added to the list, — McCor- 
mick's reaper, Colt's revolver, Powers's Greek Slave, Hobbs's unpickable lock, 
Hoe's wonderful printing presses, and Bond's more wonderful spring governor, 
— it began to be suspected that Brother Jonathan was not quite so much of a 
simpleton as had been thought. He had contributed his full share, if not to the 
splendor, at least to the utilities of the exhibition. In fact, the leading journal 
at London, with a magnanimity which did it honor, admitted that England had 
derived more real benefit from the contributions of the United States than from 
those of any other country." 

HIS BUSINESS HABITS. 

As has been said, Mr. Peabody made the bulk of his colossal fortune in the 
banking business. He had a firm faith in American securities, and dealt in 
them largely, and with confidence. His business instinct was remarkable, his 
iudement in mercantile and financial matters almost infallible, and he made few 
mistakes. His course was now onward and upward, and each year marked 
an increase of his wealth. His business operations were conducted in pursu- 
ance of a rigid system which was never relaxed. To the very close of his life 



486 



GEORGE PEABODY. 



he never abandoned the exact or business-like manner In which he sought to 
make money. He gave away millions with a generosity never excelled, yet he 
could be exacting to a penny in the fulfillment of a contract. 








/'& 



,^ 



TKOUUCE EXCHANGE BUILDING, NEW YORK. 



The conductor on an English railway once overcharged him a shilling fof 
fare. He promptly complained to the directors, and had the man discharged. 
" Not," said he, " that I could not afford to pay the shilling, but the man was 
cheating many travelers to whom the swindle would be oppressive." 



PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS. 487 

In his youth he contracted habits of economy, and these he retained to the 
last. Being unmarried, he did not subject himself to the expense of a complete 
domestic establishment, but lived in chambers, and entertained his friends at his 
club or at a coffee-house. His habits were simple in every respect, and he was 
often seen making his dinner on a mutton-chop at a table laden (at his cost) 
with the most sumptuous and tempting viands. His personal expenses for ten 
years did not average three thousand dollars per annum. 

In his dress Mr, Peabody was simple and unostentatious. He was scrupu- 
lously heat and tasteful, but there was nothing about him to indicate his vast 
wealth. He seldom wore any jewelry, using merely a black band for his watch- 
guard. Display of all kinds he abominated. 

He made several visits to his native country during his last residence in 
London, and commemorated each one of them by acts of princely munificence. 
He gave large sums to the cause of education, and to religious and charitable 
objects, and made each one of his near kindred wealthy. None of his relatives 
received less than one hundred thousand dollars, and some were given as much 
as three times that sum. He gave immense sums to the poor of London, and 
became their benefactor to such an extent that Queen Victoria sent him her 
portrait, which she had caused to be executed for him at a cost of over forty 
thousand dollars, in token of her appreciation of his services in behalf of the 
poor of her realm. 

Mr. Peabody made another visit to the United States in 1866, and upon 
this occasion added large sums to many of the donations he had already made 
in this country. He remained here until May, 1867, when he returned to 
England. He came back in June, i86g, but soon sailed again for England. 
His health had become very feeble, and it was his belief that it would be better 
in the atmosphere of London, to which he had been so long accustomed. His 
hope of recovery was vain. He failed to rally upon reaching London, and died 
in that city on the 4th of November, 1869. 

The news of his death created a profound sadness on both sides of the 
Atlantic, for his native and his adopted country alike revered him as a benefac- 
tor. The Queen caused his body to be placed in a vault in Westminster Abbey, 
amidst the greatest and noblest of her kingdom, until aH was in readiness for its 
transportation to the United States in a royal man-of-war. The Congress of 
the United States authorized the President to make such arrangements for the 
reception of the body as he should deem necessary. Sovereigns, statesmen, 
and warriors united to do homage to the mortal remains of this plain, simple 
man, who, beginning life a poor boy, and never departing from the character of 
an unassuming citizen, had made humanity his debtor by his generosity and 
goodness. He was borne across the ocean with kingly honors, two great nations 
acting as chief mourners, and then, when the pomp and the splendor of the 



488 "^^^^^^ GEORGE PEABODY. 

OQcasion were ended, they laid him down in his native earth by the side of the 
mother from whom he had imbibed those principles of integrity and goodness 
which were the foundation of his fame and fortune. 

It is impossible to obtain an accurate statement of the donations made by 
Mr. Peabody to the objects which enlisted his sympathy. In addition to those 
mentioned in the list below, he gave away for various public purposes sums 
ranging from two hundred and fifty to one thousand dollars, and extending 
back as far as the year 1835. He divided among his relatives the sum of about 
three millions of dollars, giving them a portion during his last visit to this 
country, and leaving them the remainder at his death. 

The following is a statement of his more important donations during his 
life, including the bequests contained in his last will and testament : — 

To the State of Maryland, for negotiating the loan of §8,000,000, . . . §60,000 

To the Peabody Institute, Baltimore, Md., including accrued interest. . 1,500,000 

To the Southern Education Fund, 3,000,000 

To Yale College, 150,000 

To Harvard College, 150,000 

To Peabody Academy, Massachusetts, 140,000 

To Phillips Academy, Massachusetts 25,000 

To Peabody Institute, etc., at Peabody, Massachusetts, 250,000 

To Kenyon College, Ohio, 25,000 

To Memorial Church, in Georgetown, Massachusetts, 100,000 

To Homes for the Poor in London, 3,000,000 

To Libraries in Georgetown, Massachusetts, and Thetford, Vermont, , 10,000 

To Kane's .Arctic Expedition, 10,000 

To different Sanitary Fairs, 10,000 

To unpaid moneys advanced to uphold the credit of States, 40,000 

Total, §8,470,000 

The good gifts of Mr. Peabody are every day building for him new and 
enduring monuments. The poor in London bless his memory, supposing him 
to be an Englishman ; while the people of Baltimore and the South, who are 
aided in their education by the great fund which he established, or the institute 
which bears his name, join with the thousands beyond the sea in keeping his 
name enshrined in grateful hearts. 




FIRST TRAIN OF CARS IN AMERICA. 



CORNELIUS VANDERBILT, 

AND THE STORY OF^ AMERICAN RAILROADS. 




•^^TATEN ISLAND lies in the beautiful bay of New York, 
seven miles distant from the great city. Its lofty 
heights shut in the snug anchorage of the inner bay, 
and protect it from storms. It lies full in sight of the 
city, and is one of the most beautiful and attractive of 
its suburbs. The commanding heigrhts and embow- 
ered shores are covered with villas and cottages, and it 
contains a large and flourishing population. 
^-^ A century ago, Staten Island was a mere country 

'^jl settlement, and its communications with the city were 

jsi^-ji/>^ maintained by means of a few sail-boats, which made one trip 
each way per day. 
One of these boats was owned and navigated by Cornelius Vanderbilt, a 
thriving farmer, who owned a small but well cultivated estate on Staten Island, 
near the present Quarantine grounds. He was generally regarded as one of 
the most prudent and reliable men on the island. Having a considerable 
amount of produce to sell in the city, he purchased a boat of his own for the 
purpose of transporting it thither. Frequently, residents of the island would 
secure passage in this boat to the city in the morning, and return with it in the 
evening. This was the beginning of the New York and Staten Island ferry. 
His wife was a woman of more than usual character, and aided him nobly in 
making his way in the world. 

This admirable couple were blessed with nine children. The oldest of 
these, Cornelius, was born at the old farmhouse on Staten Island, on the 27th 
of May, 1794. He was a healthy, active boy, fond of all manner of out-doori 
sports, and manifesting an unusual repugnance to the confinement and labors 
of the school-room. He was passionately fond of the water, and was never so 
well pleased as when his father allowed him to assist in sailing his boat. 

491 



492 CORNELIUS VANDERBILT. 

When he was only twelve years old, his father contracted to remove the 
caro-o from a ship which had gone ashore near Sandy Hook, and toj:onvey it 
to New York. The lighters which were to carry the goods to the city could 
not reach the ship, and it was necessary to haul the cargo, transported in 
wagons, across the sands from the vessel to them. In spite of his tender age, 
little Cornelius was placed by his father in charge of the undertaking, which 
he accomplished promptly and successfully. He loaded his lighters, sent them 
up to New York, and then started for home with his wagons. Upon reaching 
South Amboy, where he was to cross over to Staten Island, he found himself, 
with his wagons, horses, and men, without any money to pay his ferriage across 
to the island. The ferriage would amount to six dollars, and how he was to 
raise this sum he was, for a time, at a loss to determine. Finally, he went to 
the keeper of the tavern, to whom he was a stranger, and asked for the loan 
of six dollars, offering to leave one of his horses as a pledge for the money, 
which he promised to return within two days. The tavern-keeper was so well 
pleased with the boy's energy that he loaned him the money, and the party 
crossed over to Staten Island. The pawned horse was promptly redeemed. 

Young Vanderbilt was always anxious to become a sailor, and, as he 
approached his seventeenth year, he determined to begin life as a boatman in 
the harbor of New York. On the ist of May, 1810, he informed his mother 
of his determination, and asked her to lend him one hundred dollars to buy 
a boat. The good lady had always opposed her son's wish to go to sea, and 
regarded this new scheme as equally hare-brained. As a means of discour- 
ao-ino- him, she told him if he would plow, harrow, and plant with corn a certain 
ten-acre lot belonging to the farm, by the twenty-seventh of that month, on 
which day he would be seventeen years old, she would lend him the money. 
The field was the worst in the whole farm ; it was rough, hard, and stony ; 
but by the appointed time the work was done, and well done, and the boy 
claimed and received his money. He hurried off to a neighboring village, and 
bought his boat, in which he set out for home. He had not gone far, however, 
when the boat struck a sunken wreck, and filled so rapidly that the boy had 
barely time to get into shoal water before it sank. 

"Undismayed at this mishap," says Parton, "he began his new career. 
His success, as we have intimated, was speedy and great. He made a thou- 
sand dollars during each of the next three summers. Often he worked all 
night ; but he was never absent from his post by day, and he soon had the 
cream of the boating business of the port." 

During the War of 18 12, young Vanderbilt was kept very busy. All the 
harbor defenses were fully manned, and a number of war vessels were in port 
all the time. The travel between these and the city was very great, and boat- 
men were in demand. 



HIS MARRIAGE. 



493 



He was now so prosperous in his calling that he determined to marry. He 
had wooed and won the heart of Sophia Johnson, the daughter of a neighbor, 
and he now asked his parents' consent to his marriage, and also requested them 




"JOHNNY BULL," OR NO. 
{Thg First Locomottve Used.) 



to allow him to retain his own earnings, in order that he might be able to sup- 
port a wife. Both of his petitions received the approval of his parents, and in 
the winter of 1813 he was married. His wife was a woman of unusual personal 
beauty and strength of character, and proved the best of partners. He often 



494 CORNELIUS VANDERBILT. 

declared that he owed his success in life as much to her counsel and assistance 
as to his own efforts. 

In 1815, in connection with his brother-in-law, Captain De Forrest, he built 
a fine schooner, called the " Charlotte," for the coasting service. She was cele- 
brated for the beauty of her model and her great speed. He continued to ply 
his boat in the harbor during the summer, but in the fall and winter made 
voyages along the coast, often as far south as Charleston. During the three 
years succeeding the termination of the war he saved nine thousand dollars in 
cash, and built two or three small vessels. This was his condition in 1818, 

By this time it had become demonstrated to his satisfaction that the new 
system of steamboats was a success, and was desdned to come into general use 
at no very distant day. He therefore determined to identify himself with it at 
once, and thereby secure the benefits which he felt sure would result from a 
prompt connection with it. Accordingly, in 1818, to the surprise and dismay 
of his friends, he gave up his flourishing business, in order to accept the cap- 
taincy of a steamboat which was offered him by Mr. Thomas Gibbons. The 
salary attached to this position was one thousand dollars, and Captain Vander- 
bilt's friends frankly told him that he was very foolish in abandoning a lucrative 
business for so insignificant a sum. Turning a deaf ear to their remonstrances, 
however, he entered promptly upon the duties of his new career, and was given 
command of a steamboat plying between New York and New Brunswick. 

For seven years he was harassed and hampered by the hostility of the State 
of New York, which had granted to Fulton and Livingston the sole right to 
navigate New York waters by steam. Thomas Gibbons believed this law to be 
unconstitutional, and ran his boats in defiance of it. The authorities of the 
State resented his disregard of their monopoly, and a long and vexatious war- 
fare sprang up between them, which was ended only in 1824 by the famous 
decision of the Supreme Court of the United States in the "Steamboat Case," 
as it is usually called, in which Daniel Webster made the argument for Mr. 
Gibbons. 

As a means of crippling Gibbons, the New York authorises at one time 
determined to arrest Vanderbilt and his crew ; but the wary captain was too 
cunning for them. He would land his crew in Jersey City, and take charge of 
the engine himself, while a lady managed the helm. In this way he approached 
the wharf at New York, landed his passengers, and took on more. As soon as 
he had made his boat*fast, he concealed himself in the hold until the moment of 
his departure. As soon as he appeared on deck, the Sheriff's officer (who was 
changed every day to avoid recognition) would approach him with a warrant for 
his arrest. His reply was an order to let go the line. The officer, unwilling to 
be carried off to New Jersey, where he was threatened with imprisonment in the 
penitentiary for interfering with the steamer, would at once jump ashore, or beg 



SETTING UP FOR HIMSELF. 



495 



to be landed. This was kept up for two months, but the captain successfully 
baffled his enemies during the whole of that period. 

In 1829 he determined to leave the service of Mr. Gibbons, with whom he 
had been connected for eleven years. He was thirty-five years old, and had 
saved thirty thousand dollars. He resolved to build a steamer of his own, and 
command her himself, and accordingly made known his intention to his em- 
ployer. Mr. Gibbons at once declared that he could not carry on the line with- 
out his assistance, and told him he might make his own terms if he would stay 
with him. Captain Vanderbilt had formed his decision after much thought, and 
being satisfied that he was doing right, he persisted in his determination to set 




LOADING A TRAIN OF TANK CARS' 



up for himself Mr. Gibbons then 
offered to sell him the line on the 
spot, and to take his pay as the 
money should be earned. It was a 
splendid offer, but it was firmly and 
gratefully refused. The captain knew 
the men among whom he would be 
thrown, and that they could never act 
together harmoniously. He believed his own ideas to be the best, and wished 
to be free to carry them out. 

From that time he made his way gradually in his business, until he rose to 
the head of the steamboat interest of the United States. He owned or was 
interested in one hundred steam vessels, and was instrumental in a greater 
degree than any other man in bringing down the rate of steamboat fares. He 
never built a vessel without giving his personal superintendence to every detail, 
so that all his various craft were models of their kind. 

From this period he began by degrees withdrawing his interest from ship- 
ping, to some extent, and investing in railroads ; ten years later he was director 
in several ; and when the war broke out in i860 his investments were already 
29 



496 CORNELIUS VANDERBILT. 

in great measure transferred from the water to the land, so that his prosperity 
suffered no special shock by the practical destruction of our foreign carr)-ing 
trade. 

Having gained considerable experience in the manipulation of stocks, he 
invested largely, more especially in -'Harlem," "Hudson River," and "Cen- 
tral," then separate roads. One of his most successful operations was in con- 
nection with Harlem. He had bought heavily of this stock when it was in a 
most depressed condition, advancing to the company a large sum of money, 
and consequently was placed upon the directors' board, and in 1863 became 
president of the road.' Under his judicious management, and perhaps the magic 
of his name, the stock which in January had been at 30, rose in July to 92, and 
by a skillful manceuvre was made to take a sudden jump in August up to 179. 
The next year occurred the famous " corner in Harlem," which sent this stock 
up to the astounding figure of 285 ! 

After this grand "bulling" exploit the directors of the Central road, covet- 
ing his influence, offered him the presidency. He bought the Hudson River 
Railroad outright, and had then in New York State but one rival in the field 
worthy of his metal ; this was the Erie road, then identified with the names 
of the famous trio, Daniel Drew, Jay Gould, and James Fisk. Vanderbilt 
wished to procure the consolidation of the "Harlem" and "Hudson River," 
and for this purpose caused a bill to be presented to the legislature at Albany. 
Whether it was under the suo;^orestion of his ever-watchful antagonist, Mr. Drew, 
or arose from the speculating minds of members, or of the lobby, a coalition 
was formed to defeat the bill, its deserting friends evidently believing that they 
could make more in that way than by passing it. Many privately " gave away 
the point" to their friends, that Harlem stock could soon be bought for a song. 
But this conspiracy was not so secretly managed but that it reached the ears of 
Harlem's president. He made no protest to his defaulting friends in the as- 
sembly, but quietly went into the market and bought up every scrap of Harlem 
stock to be found. In the meanwhile the derelict assemblymen and their friends 
had been selling Harlem 'short" for future delivery. The bill for the consoli- 
dation was defeated, and the conspirators looked to see Harlem fall. To their 
astonishment it stood firm, and when they went into the market to buy the stock 
for delivery, there was none to be had ; they were consequently obliged to pay 
on " call " the value of the stock, which they had sold at a high price. Many of 
the speculators were ruined, while Vanderbilt's gains began to roil up in fabulous 
sums. 

From this time onward it has been impossible to exactly estimate the wealth 
of the railroad emperor. At the time of the consolidation of the Harlem and 
Hudson River the property was estimated at $35,000,000 ; he very soon increased 
the capital to $90,000,000, and on this enormous sum paid annual dividends of 



HIS GREAT WEALTH. 



497 



eight per cent. His will did not disclose the amount he left, but it was prob- 
ably near |, 100,000,000. Some of his uses of money may be considered as 
public benefits, and in these are included his improvements in railroad accom- 
modations. In 1862, durmg the most depressed period of the Union forces 
during the war, he made the magnificent gift of his splendid steamer, the " Van- 
derbilt," to the Government. Its cost was 
United States was greatly in need of 
timely and valuable. Congress passed a 
ordered a gold medal, commemorative of 
and presented to him. 

It was one of the pleasant traits of 
character that he never foro-ot his oriein, 
nor the old homestead ; in fact, thoug-h he 
lived for many years, during the latter part 




about $800,000. The 
vessels, and the gift was 
resolution of thanks, and 
the event, to be struck 

Commodore Vanderbilt's 

I 



THE VANDERBILT FAMILY DRIVING IN CENTRAL PARK, NEW YORK. 

,i of his life, in New York city, No. 10 Washington Place, his first grand house 
was in Staten Island, and built upon a corner of his father's farm, which he had 
bought when quite a young man, and which, before he built upon it, was 
recognized by the neighbors as " Corneel's lot." Its site, when bought, was 
on the northeast corner of the farm, and very near the water's edge, but later 

! improvements in filling in carried out the shore-line nearly an eighth of a mile 



498 



CORNELIUS VANDERBILT. 



beyond the house, which is situated upon a rise of land overlooking the bay, 
the approach being handsomely terraced, and separated from the road by a 
substantial stone coping and high iron fence. 

Mr. Vanderbilt's death occurred on the morning of the 4th of January, 
1877, after an illness of six months, the result of a complication of diseases. 
The great bulk of his gigantic fortune descended to his son William H. 

Commodore Vanderbilt was the father of thirteen children by his first wife 
— four sons and nine daughters. His second wife, whom he married late in life, 
was a Miss Crawford, of Mobile, Ala. To this lady is attributed the influence 
which caused the endowment of the " Vanderbilt University," located at Nash- 
ville, Tenn., and the gift to Dr. Deems, of the Church of the Strangers, with 
those other beneficent acts which marked the last vears of the veteran finan- 
cier's life. 




SUirE.NcjlON liRlUliE, NIAGARA FALLS. 



OUR AJvIERICAN RAILROADS, 



N view of the important part performed 
by railways in the evolution of American 
prosperity and power, there was some- 
thing- specially significant in the name 
of the first American locomotive built 
for the first railway constructed for the 
carriage of passengers and freight by 
steam power exclusively. 

It was the " Best Friend," made at 
the West Point Works, New York City, 
in the summer of 1830, for the pioneer 
steam railway between Charleston and 
ith Carolina, opened for service in the fall of 
lere had been railroads at an earlier date, but 
steam roads. The historic three-mile (horse- 
^ power) railroad of the Quincy Granite Company, built in 
1827, to facilitate the transportation of stone for the Bunker 
Hill Monument, is a notable example. The Delaware and Hud- 
son Canal Company's gravity coal road between Carbondale and 
Hawley, Pa., was another ; and a later one was the tram-road for horses 
between Baltimore and Ellicott's Mills, now part of the Baltimore and Ohio Rail- 
road. And there had been numerous experimental locomotives, by several 
inventors, following the lead of Oliver Evans at the beginning of the century, 
and coming nearest to success, perhaps, in Peter Cooper's little "Tom Thumb." 
This, the first American locomotive to run on rails, was a toy affair, with a three 
and a-half inch cylinder, an upright tubular boiler made with old gun-barrels, and 
a fan-blower for increasing the fire-draft. It was about as big as a flour-barrel 
on a hand-car, and weighed two and a-half tons. In August, 1830, it made the 
run from Baltimore to Ellicott's, twenty-seven miles, in an hour ; but when raced 
against a fast team on the return trip it failed, through the slipping of the belt 
which moved the fan. A year earlier an English engine had been imported by 

SOI 




502 OUR AMERICAN RAILROADS. 

the Delaware and Hudson Canal Company, for hauling coal ; and, though suc- 
ceessful in a short run, it proved to be too heavy for the tracks and too tall to 
pass under highway bridges, and was never used. 

The "Best Friend" was more fortunate at first, and it was practically the 
pioneer American locomotive, and the South Carolina road was our pioneer 
steam railway — the first to carry passengers and the United States mail, and, 
withal, the longest railroad in the world when completed. It was not con- 
temptible, either, in the matter of speed. On trial trips (in the latter part of 
1830), the " Best Friend " was able to run at the rate of twenty miles an hour, 
with four or five coaches and forty to fifty passengers ; and from thirty to 
thirty-five miles an hour without cars. Its own weight was five tons. On the 
stockholders' first anniversary, January 15, 1831, an excursion party of two 
hundred and more were carried over the road, in two trips, with a band of 
music and a detachment of United States soldiers with a field piece. 

This was only four months after the formal opening of the Manchester and 
Liverpool road, when Stephenson demonstrated for England the superiority of 
steam railways for passenger travel. 

Stephenson's locomotive, "The Rocket," had two features of the modern 
locomotive which the Best Friend lacked — a tubular boiler and steam draft ; 
and, in June, 1831, the West Point Works sent to the South Carolina road a 
better engine of the "Rocket" type. Soon after the Best Friend's career was 
ended by the excessive zeal of a negro fireman who sat upon the safety valve 
to stop the escape of steam. The fireman's career was ended at the same time. 

Closely pressing the South Carolina road in its claim for priority was the 
Mohawk and Hudson road, from Albany to Schenectady, N. Y., now part of the 
New York Central road. By many it is regarded as furnishing the first fully 
equipped passenger train drawn by a steam-engine to run in regular service in 
America. Trial trips were made in August, 1831, regular service beginning in 
October. The engine was the " De Witt Clinton," the third locomotive built at 
the West Point Works. It weighed three and a half tons, and, hauling half a 
dozen coaches, was able to run from Albany to Schenectady, seventeen miles, in 
less than an hour. An excursion trip made August 9, 1831, described by one of 
the party, gives a good idea of primitive railway travel. "The train was made 
up of the De Witt Clinton, its tender, and five or six coaches — old stage bodies 
placed on trucks, coupled together by chain links, leaving from two to three 
feet slack. When the locomotive started it took up the slack by jerks, with 
sufficient force to jerk the passsengers, who sat on seats across the tops, out 
from under their hats, and in stopping the cars came together with such force 
as to send the excursionists flying from their seats. 

" Pitch pine was used for fuel, and there being no spark-catcher to the 
smoke-stack, a volume of black smoke, strongly charged with sparks, coal, and 



CRUDE EQUIPMENT. 



503 



cinders, came pouring back the whole length of the train. Each of the outside 
passengers who had an umbrella, raised it as a protection against the smoke 
and fire. The umbrellas were found to be but a momentary protection, and in 
the first mile the last one went overboard, all having their covers burned off 
from the frames. 

At the first station a plan was hit upon to stop the jerking. A piece of 
fence rail was placed between each pair of cars, stretching the link-coupling, 
and fastened by means of packing yarn from the cylinders, an improvement not 
fully worked out practically for many years. 

A more formal exhibition of the possibilities of the road was made a month 




NEW TERMINAL STATION AND MARKET HOUSE OF READING RAILROAD. 



later, when a large number of State and city officials took part. A " powerful 
Stephenson locomotive" had been imported for the occasion, but it did not 
work well, and the DeWitt Clinton was brought into service to haul a train of 
three coaches, while seven other coaches followed, drawn by horses. The 
steam train made the trip in forty-six minutes ; the horse-drawn train in an hour 
and a quarter. Among the toasts offered at the subsequent dinner was this : 
"The Buffalo Railroad — may we soon breakfast in Utica, dine in Rochester, 
and sup with our friends on Lake Erie." 

Now we breakfast in New York, dine on the road while speeding through 
Central New York, and sup as the train flies past. 

Crude as were these early beginnings, they sufficed to convince a v/ide- 



504 OUR AMERICAN RAILROADS. 

awake and enterprising people that the steam railroad was to be the future 
highway, and railway projects were started in all parts of the country, a num- 
ber of them to be carried out speedily. There were nearly a hundred miles of 
railways in operation at the end of 1831, and the first thousand miles were 
passed in 1835. In the meantime improvements were introduced in the con- 
struction of tracks, locomotives, and cars, and the characteristics which have 
since distinguished American railroads, rolling stock, and methods of operation, 
began to be developed. 

In Europe the railways were primarily to meet existing needs, social, 
commercial, and military. They connected strategic points, or established 
centres of population, and sought mainly to supply the demonstrated wants of 
ancient trade routes. In America the longer roads were planned chiefly to 
meet future needs. They were pioneers in national development. They pene- 
trated the wilderness to hasten its conquest, to make accessible natural 
resources not otherwise attainable. They created trade routes. Population 
followed the lines they laid down, and their points of intersection became 
centres of production and traffic. Built largely in advance of trade and travel, 
by a people too young to have accumulated an excess of capital, in their con- 
struction and equipment the early American roads showed less of solidity and 
elegance than of originality, one might almost say audacity, in design and 
execution. Curves of startling abruptness were common, and timber viaducts 
of spider-web lightness led over chasms that European engineers would have 
crossed only at a cost which would have thrown a new enterprise into bank- 
ruptcy, as indeed the cheapest construction too often did. 

The unsubstantial nature of the roadway, with wooden viaducts and bridges, 
compelled the use of rolling stock of home production. Almost invariably the 
imported engines proved too heavy and rigid for American service. They were 
built for level grades and wide curves, the axles being held rigidly parallel by 
the ensrine frames. The second eno-ine of the South Carolina road had its run- 
ning-gear of eight wheels arranged in two trucks, turning on king bolts, so 
as to easily follow sharp curves. This was improved upon in the first Mohawk 
and Hudson engine, in which the driving wheels were separated from the 
swiveled "bearing" truck, a plan which still better enabled the engine to follow 
readily sharp curves and adapt itself to sudden inequalities of the track. In 
1836 two pairs of driving-wheels coupled together were adopted in connection 
with a swivelingr bearingf-truck ; and thereafter what has since been known the 
world over as the American type of locomotive became the rule here, to be 
accepted ultimately by other countries, — latterly even by the stubbornly conser- 
vative English locomotive builders. 

Closely following the Mohawk and Hudson road, in the same year, came 
the thirteen-mile railway between Richmond and Chesterfield, Va., and a five- 



RAPID RAILROAD EXTENSION. 



505 



mile road from New Orleans to Lake Pontchartrain. The next year Pennsyl- 
vania had a State-built railroad, using horses at first, from Philadelphia to 
Columbia, eighty-two miles, and the Portage road, for canal boats, over the 
mountains from HoUidaysburgh to Johnstown, using stationary engines. These 
roads, with their canal connections, gave Philadelphia a route through to the 
West, reducing the freight charge to Pittsburgh from $100 to ^30 per ton. 
New York and Philadelphia were connected by the Camden and Amboy Rail- 
road, finished in 1834. Boston and Worcester were iron-linked in 1835. 




ON THE BALTIMORE AND OHIO RAILWAY. 



Something of a railway mania ensued, culminating in 1842, in which year 
over seven hundred miles of new roads were built, bringing the aggregate mile- 
age up to four thousand. By this time Boston and Albany had been connected 
by railway, and wheat threshed and milled in Rochester on Monday had been 
delivered in Boston, converted into bread, and solemnly eaten at a public dinner 
on Wednesday. From New York one could go by rail all the way to Wash-, 
ington ; and from Fredericksburg, Va., to Wilmington, N. C. In 1850 there 
was no direct rail connection between New York and Boston, nor between New 
York and Albany. The Hudson River Road was opened in the Fall of 1S51, 



5o6 OUR AMERICAN RAILROADS. 



By the consolidation of a dozen previously independent roads, the New York 
Central was created in 1853. With the completion of the Hudson River road 
the westward traveler could go by rail to Buffalo ; thence by boat through Lake 
Erie to Detroit ; across the State of Michigan by rail ; thence across Lake 
Michigan by boat to Chicago, then almost as far from New York as San Fran- 
cisco now is. Chicago's only railway connection was with Elgin, forty miles 
west. The Michigan Central reached Chicacjo, oriving it direct Eastern connec- 
tion, in 1852. Meantime Western Ohio had reached Chicagoward from Toledo, 
passing through Northern Indiana. Two or three years later Chicago had be- 
come a great railway centre, with lines to Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, and St. Louis, 
and had entered upon an era of civic development previously unknown even in 
America. During that decade — 1850 to i860 — the development of the region 
between the Great Lakes and the Ohio River was something marvelous, and 
the rapid extension of its railways must be considered as much a cause as 
an effect. 

Coincident with the extension of railway facilities were improvements in 
methods and appliances. The original coaches could carry from four to six 
passengers inside and two at each end outside. The next step was to low and 
narrow cars, with four or five coach-iike compartments, into which perhaps 
twenty passengers could be crowded, in groups of four. Then the partitions 
were omitted, making a long bo.x-car with doors at the ends. These cars were 
dimly lighted by tallow candles or whale-oil lamps, which smoked the tops of 
the ca'rs and spattered the sides with grease. The more luxurious of the stiff, 
uncomfortable seats were covered with hair cloth. In winter some of the cars 
were heated by small sheet-iron stoves. There was no ventilation except by 
open windows, into which poured clouds of dust from the unballasted roadbed, 
and denser clouds of smoke and cinders from the locomotive, burning fat pine 
for fuel and belching forth a torrent of sparks that usually enveloped the entire 
train. The cars were without springs. 

The first rails were merely straps of iron nailed to longitudinal sleepers of 
wood. The continuous hammering of the wheels on one side of these bars 
caused them to curl ; the loosened ends would sometimes be struck by the 
wheels and thrust upward through the car, — causing "snake heads," which 
never failed to frighten, and not unfrequently to kill, passengers and derail 
the train. The modern rail, invented by Colonel Stevens, of New Jersey, 
removed this source of danger and commended itself to railway builders the 
world over. The strap rail was not entirely displaced, however, for many years. 

The early railroad stations were mere sheds with few conveniences for pas- 
sengers or baggage. There was no baggage checking, and every passenger 
had to keep track of his own luggage ; a serious bother and constant anxiety, 
as "through" cars were unknown and frequent changes of cars were made 



1 



MODERN FACILITIES. 



SO? 



necessary by the short length and independent management of connecting roads. 
At every terminus the passenger had to get out, buy a new ticket, and see that 
his baggage was properly transferred. At night and in foul weather this was 
no pleasure. Coupon tickets, continuous trains, sleeping cars, baggage check- 
ing over con- 
necting routes, 
and other con- 
veniences came 
in with the later 
fifties. By this 
time the elec- 
tric telegraph 
had become an 
important fac- 
tor in railroad 
management, 
a factor of 
safety as well 
as conveni- 
ence ; and that 
other American 
idea, the ex- 
press service, 
had demonstra- 
ted its advan- 
tages to travel- 
ers as well as to 
shippers of 
goods. 

In 1850 the 
railways of the 
country were 
almost entirely 
confined to the 
Atlantic slope 
north of Vir- 
ginia. Ten 

years later the Southern States were crossed in various directions from Rich- 
mond to Savannah and Memphis, from New Orleans to the mouth of the Ohio ; 
and a network of iron roads furnished transportation to the coast for the 
cotton of the Carolinas, Georgia, and Alabama. Still greater progress had 




So8 OUR AMERICAN RAILROADS. 

been made north of the Ohio. The great Central States were crossed and 
recrossed many times, and their fertile plains were tapped by the four or 
five great chains of connecting lines, furnishing through routes from New York 
to beyond the Mississippi River, and down the Mississippi to New Orleans; 
and Chicago had become a great railway centre. 

During the years of civil war railroad building was largely suspended, to 
begin again with increased vigor with the return of peace. The gigantic task 
of building an iron way across the continent had been accomplished before the 
decade was ended, and the aggregate mileage of the country had been increased 
to about si.xty thousand. The example set by the New York Central, and the 
manifest convenience and economy of grouping related roads into united sys- 
tems under common management, had led to the formation of great corporations 
like the Pennsylvania Railway Company and the Baltimore and Ohio, thus 
bringing a confusion of independent roads into orderly and economical action, 
with lower tariff rates for freight and passengers, speedier service, and greater 
efficiency in every department. The great advantages of the rapid and uninter- 
rupted transmission of packages by the express companies led to the extension 
of such service to general freight carrying, and fast freight lines in charge of 
special companies were the beneficent result. 

While these improvements in railway management were developing, not 
less important improvements were making in the construction and equipment 
of the roads. The track was better laid, heavier rails employed, with larger 
cars, and more powerful engines. The Hodge hand-brake, and the Stevens 
brake, introduced about 1850, materially increased the economy and safety of 
handling trains. The Miller coupler and buffer was a more radical improve- 
ment, practically ending the jerking and jolting in starting and stopping trains, 
and lessening the risk of "telescoping " in case of collisions. 

The extension of railway lines and the increase of night travel gave rise 
to the need of better sleeping accommodations, and several roads experimented 
with sleeping-cars about the time of their introduction by Woodruff in 1856. 
Wagner cars were placed on the New York Central in 1858, and soon after the 
Chicago and Alton Road tried a number of day cars altered to sleepers by 
Pullman. Great improvements were developed by Pullman in 1865, the first 
car of the new type — costing the then extravagant sum of $18,000 — was first 
used in the funeral train of President Lincoln. Parlor or drawing-room cars 
were next introduced for day service, adding gready to the comfort of travel- 
ing. The first hotel car was introduced by the Pullman Company in 1857, and 
the first dining-car, in which all the passengers of a train could take their meals 
as in a well-equipped restaurant, followed in 1868. 

Each decade since 1870 has seen a greater extension of railway lines and 
more numerous improvements in railway material and methods than in all the 



WIDESPREAD RAILWAY EXTENSION. 



son 



years preceding, marvelous as their result had been. In 1870 the great rail- 
way States were Pennsylvania and Illinois, with nearly five thousand miles of iron 
roads each, while New York, Ohio, and Indiana had a mileage of over three thou- 
sand each. In 
1880 Illinois' 
mileage ap- 
proached eight 
thousand, Penn- 
sylvania's over 
six thousand ; 
N ew York, 
Ohio, and Iowa 
had nearly as 
many; and sev- 
en other States 
exceeded three 
thousand miles 
each. Of these, 
Texas had in- 
creased her 
mileage over 
fourfold. Dur- 
ing that year 
the railway 
mileage of the 
whole country 
reached and 
passed a hun- 
dred thousand 
miles; and over 
seventy thou- 
sand miles of 
new road have 
since been add- 
ed. Illinois re- 
mained in 1890 
the greatest 
railroad State, 

with ten thousand miles ; Kansas had nine thousand ; Iowa, Pennsylvania, and 
Texas nearly as many. After these come Ohio with eight thousand miles; 
New York with seven thousand seven hundred and sixty miles ; and Michigan 




5IO OUR AMERICAN RAILROADS. 

with seven thousand three hundred and forty-two miles. Thirteen or fourteen 
States have more than five thousand miles each; and all except Rhode Island, 
Delaware, Vermont and Nevada have passed the first thousand. 

During the last two decades there have been three great periods of railway 
extension, culminating in 1871, in 1882, and in 1887, the advance in the last year 
named being nearly thirteen thousand miles, or as much as the whole country 
had in 1852. The present mileage of the United States — not counting town and 
city roads operated by horses, stationary engines, electric motors, and small 
steam engines, like those of our elevated roads — is more than half the railway 
mileage of the entire world, and more than six times that of any other country. 

At a low estimate something like one-fifth of the entire wealth of the United 
States is represented by these newly created highways of trafiic and travel, or 
much more than the sum of the whole world's stock of money, of every kind — 
gold, silver, and paper. Their motive power is furnished by upward of 30,000 
locomotives, valued at half a billion dollars, whose flying trains comprise about 
twelve hundred thousand cars, worth more than a billion and a half. They 
would make a train extending half way around the globe ! Their annual traffic 
earnings exceed a thousand million dollars. They give direct employment to 
an army of 800,000 railway men, and four times as many men are employed in 
subsidiary occupations, in building and equipping them, the railway interests 
supporting fully a twentieth of our entire population. 

To haul on common roads the freight carried by American railroads would 
require not less than sixty million horses, with all the able-bodied men in the 
country to drive them, and the annual freight bill would be increased twenty- 
fold or more by such a return to primitive methods, were such a thing possible. 
Facts and figures like these serve not merely to indicate the magnitude and 
importance of our railway service, but to show how fundamentally necessary it 
is to a civilization like ours. Without such means of cheap and rapid move- 
ment of men and materials the greater part of our populous and wealth-pro- 
ducing territory would have remained a savage wilderness. 

Before the days of railways it cost a hundred dollars to haul a ton of freight 
from Philadelphia to Pittsburgh ; on the easier grades through Central New 
York to Buffalo the charge was twenty-five cents a mile. Only costly commod- 
ities could stand such expensive carriage. The value of a load of wheat would 
have been absorbed in half the distance ; indeed, a distance of a hundred miles 
is generally regarded as the limit of grain transport on common roads. By 
railway it can stand a carriage of two or three thousand miles, the average 
freight charge on all the railroads of the country being about a cent a mile ; on 
many roads it as low as three-fourths of a cent. It was over three cents a mile 
in 1853 and over two cents in i860. Since 1870 the average cost of bringing 
a bushel of wheat from Chicago to New York has fallen from about thirty-five 



THE NEW YORK CENTRAL SYSTEM. 



511 



cents to less than fifteen cents, with corresponding benefit to Eastern and 
European consumers. 

To attempt to trace the causes of this cheapening of transportation for 
freight and passengers would carry us far beyond the hmits of space prescribed. 
Some of the chief contributing factors, however, may be briefly noticed — compe- 
tition, due to the multipHcation of roads ; more economical management, through 
the development of great systems under united and judicious control ; and, above 
all, improvement in the tracks, engines, cars, stations, and all related means, 
methods, and appliances. As an 
example, when the New York 
Central System comprised the 
consolidation of the Hudson 
River and Harlem Roads, in 
1864, it included 281 miles of 




railway, with double tracks, sidings, and spurs, making a total mileage of 463. 
In 1 89 1 the system included sixteen roads, with over 5000 miles of track. 
Its valuation had increased sixfold, its operating expenses fivefold, and its 
gross earnings more than fivefold. In 1866 it used 125 locomotives, 251 
passenger cars, and 1421 freight cars of all sorts and sizes. The average 
freight car was then twenty-eight feet long and carried ten tons ; the 
average passenger car was forty feet long and would seat forty passengers. 
Now the average freight car is thirty-four feet long, with a capacity of twenty- 
30 



512 



OUR AMERICAN RAILROADS. 




two tons ; the passenger coach is fifty-four feet long and carries sixty-four, with 
a comfort undreamed of at the earher day. The fast express of 1866 attained a 
speed of thirty-four miles an hour. The Empire State Express of 1892 regularly 
maintains a speed of fifty-one miles from the sea to the lakes ; sometimes it 
exceeds a mile a minute. In 1866 the average passenger train, including die 
engine, weighed one hundred and thirty tons ; the average freight train perhaps 
twice as much. In 1891 some of the freight engines alone weighed one hundred 
tons, and a freight train of thirty-five cars, over five hundred tons. A limited 
passenger train would weigh nearly four-fifths as much. In 1891 the system, 
using over eleven hundred locomotives and forty times as many cars, carried 
over twenty million passengers more than six hundred million miles, at a 
cost to passengers of less than two cents a mile, and twenty million tons of 
_ freight over three thousand million miles. The 

chairman of the Board of Directors of the New 
York Central and Hudson River Railroad Com- 
pany is Mr. Cornelius Vanderbilt, who devotes 
his time to furthering the interests of this gfreat 
company, Mr. Chauncey M. Depew is the active 
president of the road, with Mr. Theodore Voor- 
hies as superintendent, maintaining a vigilant 
oversight of its business, and Mr. George H. 
Daniels is the efficient General Passenger Agent. 
The task of operating this vast enterprise, with its 
five hundred and eighty-six trains daily, devolves 
upon Mr. John M. Toucey, as General Manager, 
whose record may well serve as a stimulus to 
others — for Mr. Toucey rose from the ranks. 

John M. Toucey, General Manager of the 
New York Central & Hudson River R. R., was 
born at Newtown, Conn., July 30th, 1828. After preparing for Trinity College, 
Mr. Toucey, finding that his tastes did not lead him in the direction of the minis- 
try, turned his attention to school teaching, continuing in that profession for two 
years. At the age of nineteen he applied for and obtained a position on the 
Naugatuck R. R., then in course of construction, and was appointed station 
agent at Plymouth (nowThomaston), beginning business there before the station 
was erected. 

About a year after his appointment the station was robbed, and no clue 
obtained undl about fifteen hours had elapsed. Mr. Toucey followed the thief 
to Goshen, near Litchfield, where he grappled with him alone, secured the 
money, and turned the man over to the authorities to ser\'e a seven years' 
sentence in the State Prison. While running as conductor between Bridgeport 
and Winstead the road was badly damaged by freshets. Mr. Toucey was given 



JOHN M. TOUCEY. 

General Manager Nezu York Central Railroad 
System). 



THE PENNSYLVANIA SYSTEM. 513 

charge of the reconstruction of the road between Waterbiiry and Winstead, 
completing- the work in a short time to the entire satisfaction of the Company. 
After serving at IndianapoHs as agent of the Madison & Indianapolis R. R., and 
later as freight agent on the Morris & Essex R. R., Mr. Toucey entered the 
service of the Hudson River R. R., and in 1855 was appointed passenger con- 
ductor between New York and Troy, subsequently filling the position of agent 
at East Albany. In 1862 President Samuel Sloan, of the Hudson River R. R., 
appointed Mr. Toucey Train Master, from which position he was soon promoted 
to be Assistant Superintendent. 

In 1867 Mr. Toucey resigned from the service of the Hudson River Road 
and accepted the position of General Superintendent of the D. L. & W. R. R., 
under Mr. Sloan, the former President of the Hudson River Road, but after 
two months' service he was recalled to the Hudson River Railroad by Commo- 
dore Vanderbilt, and appointed General Superintendent, with full charge of the 
line then extending from New York to Albany. Some years after the consoli- 
dation of the New York Central Railroad and the Hudson River Railroad Mr. 
Toucey's jurisdiction was extended to Buffalo, and in February, 1890, he was 
appointed General Manager. Mr. Toucey's long experience in railway man- 
agement and his habits of close observation, combined with untiring energy and 
native sagacity, have brought him to the front rank among railway managers, 
and he is deservedly popular with the army of men employed on the great 
"New York Central System," where his ability is recognized and his tall form 
is so well known. 

THE PENNSYLVANIA SYSTEM 

covers between seven and eight thousand miles of track, with a freight traffic of 
one hundred and thirty million tons (over twelve thousand million tons one mile) 
and a passenger traffic of eighty-seven million passengers (over sixteen hun- 
dred thousand one mile), and carries seventy-four thousand names on its pay- 
rolls. The Union Pacific system covers over six thousand miles of connecting 
roads ; the Southern Pacific nearly as many ; the Richmond Terminal system 
something like seven thousand miles ; and in scope of territory and magnitude 
of business these are rivaled, if not surpassed, by several systems reaching 
westward from Chicaeo into remons that were an almost unbroken wilderness 
twenty-five years ago, now a chain of mighty States, reaching from Mexico to 
Manitoba, and from the Mississippi to the Pacific. The unprecedented progress 
in the social, industrial, and political development of that wilderness of yester- 
day is primarily due to the people who have converted it to the uses of civiliza- 
tion ; but their presence there was made possible by railways, and the railway 
has everywhere been their great engine of conquest and development — the 
bringer of population and carrier of the wealth they discovered or created. 

To trace adequately the conflicts of systems and the effects of competition 
in decreasing tariff rates, and in improving the means and methods of railway 



514 OUR AMERICAN RAILROADS. 

service since 1880, would require a volume. Much less is it possible to 
describe the notable feats of engineering which have carried railways over 
rivers and chasms, over mountains impassable other than by sure-footed mules, 
across deserts too hot and dry even for mule trains. "No heights seem too 
great to-day, no valleys too deep, no canons too forbidding, no streams too 
■wide ; if commerce demands it the engineer will respond and the railways will 
be built." The railway bridges of the country would make a continuous struc- 
ture from New York to San Francisco, and include many of the boldest and 
most original, as well as the longest and highest bridges in the world. The 
pioneer railway suspension bridge at Niagara Falls was as remarkable in its day 
for boldness and originality as for its size and its success. A single span of 
821 feet, supported by four cables, carried the track 245 feet above the river 
that rushed beneath. The cables were supported by masonry towers, whose 
slow disintegration gave occasion for an engineering feat even more notable 
than the original construction of the bridge. The first railroad bridge across 
the Ohio was at Steubenville, completed in 1866 ; the first iron bridge over 
the Upper Mississippi was the Burlington bridge of 1869. The first great 
bridge across the Mississippi was Fads' magnificent structure at St. Louis, whose 
beautiful steel arches of over 500 feet span each give no hint of the difficult 
problems that had to be solved before a permanent bridge was possible at that 
point. It was completed in 1874. Since then the great river has been fre- 
quently bridged for railways, the latest at Memphis, while its great arm, the 
Missouri, has been crossed a dozen times. The Memphis bridge involves the 
cantilever construction, so boldly applied for the first time by the Cincinnati 
Southern Road to its crossing of the deep gorge of the Kentucky River, a 
caiion 1200 feet wide and 275 feet deep, with a stream subject to rises of water 
of 55 feet. 

But to return to the subject of railways and their development : the latest and 
most promising phase of this development — the electric railroads — must have a 
paragraph. Though it is scarcely a dozen years since the first experimental 
electric locomotive was exhibited, there are already (June, 1892,) upward of 
five thousand miles of electric roads in operation, capitalized at nearly two hun- 
dred million dollars, Massachusetts leads in mileage, though exceeded by New 
York, Pennsylvania, and Ohio in number of roads. Thirty-si.x States claim one 
or more roads each, and St. Louis, Mo., boasts of the most complete and exten- 
sive city system. Assurance is given that electric locomotives will soon dis- 
place steam engines from the Elevated Roads of New York city. The largest 
electric locomotives thus far reported are the three eighty-ton electric engines for 
the tunnel service of the Baltimore Belt Railway. They are designed to haul a 
1200-ton freight train fifteen miles an hour, or a 500-ton passenger train thirty 
miles an hour. Similar heavy and powerful electric locomotives have been 
adopted for handling trains at the Northern Pacific Terminals at Chicago, 



CYRUS W. FIELD, 

THE SUCCESSFUL PROJECTOR OF THE ATLANTIC 

CABLE. 




OW necessary it is to succeed!" sadly remarked Kossuth, 
the Hungarian patriot, as he stood at the tomb of Wash- 
ington. Many a noble and brave man beside Kossuth 
has illustrated the truth that the world bestows honor 
only for success ; but few have so nobly displayed the 
qualities necessary to win success as the projector of 
the great Atlantic cable. 

Cyrus West Field was born at Stockbridge, Massa- 
chusetts, November 30, 18 19. He was the son of Rev. 
David Dudley Field, a distinguished clergyman. He was 
carefully educated, and at the age of fifteen went to New 
York to seek his fortune. He had no difficulty in obtaining a 
clerkship in an enterprising mercantile house, and, from the first, 
[•ave evidence of unusual business capacity. His employers advanced him 
apidly, and in a few years he became a partner. His success was so marked 
hat in 1853, when only thirty-four years old, he was able to partially retire from 
)usiness with a large fortune. 

Mr. Field had devoted himself so closely to his business that, at his retire- 
nent, he resolved to seek recreation and change of scene in foreign travel, and 
.ccordingly he left New York, and passed the next six months in journeying 
hrough the mountains of South America. Upon his return home, at the close 
(f the year 1853, he declared his intention to withdraw entirely from active par- 
icipation in business, and to engage in no new schemes. 

Scarcely had Mr. Field returned when he was solicited by his brother Mat- 
hew to accord an interview to a Mr. Frederick Gisborne, of Newfoundland, 
i^ho had conceived a plan to establish telegraphic communication between New 
(^ork and St. Johns, Newfoundland, and from the latter point to despatch 
wift steamers to London or Liverpool, which were expected to make the voy- 
.ge in five or six days. Mr. Field listened to his enthusiastic visitor with close 
ttention, but without committing himself to the project But, after the latter 

517 



5i8 CYRUS IV. FIELD. 

had left, he took out his maps and charts, and began to mentally estimate the 
cost and difficulties of the plan, when suddenly the idea came to him ; " Instead 
of steamers, why not run an electric wire through the ocean itself? " This 
thought, he says, thrilled him like a veritable shock of electricity, and he could 
hardly contain himself until he had sought the opinion of persons more practi- 
cally acquainted with the science of electricity, and with the conformation of the 
ocean-bed, than he was at that time. Being assured by the best authorities of 
the feasibility of the plan, he became thoroughly interested in the project, and 
resolved at once to try and interest a sufficient number of capitalists to enable 
the company to make a practical beginning. 

A company was soon found, consisting of a few wealthy men of New York. 
Mr. Peter Cooper was president. Mr. Field was the man who undertook the 
immense labor of pushing the enterprise. He visited England, where he 
obtained large subscriptions to the capital stock of the company. He secured 
the cordial aid of the British government, both in money and in the use of ves- 
sels for laying the cable. He attended to the manufacture of the cable itself, 
and the construction of the machinery for " paying-out " from the vessels. Then 
he returned to America, and with difficulty secured the co-operation of the 
United States government. The bill passed Congress by very small majorities, 
and was signed by President Buchanan in March, 1857. 

THE FIRST .\TTEMI'T. 

On August 6th the " Niagara" and "Agamemnon," with the precious cable 
aboard, started from Valentia, a small town on the western coast of Ireland. 
Mr. Field was on board of the "Niagara ;" Professor Morse and other electri- 
cians accompanied Mr. Field to watch the execution of the enterprise. As 
fathom after fathom of the great cable passed over the side of the " Niagara " 
and slipped into the silent sea, every one on board began to feel a sort of human 
interest in the cable itself as if it were a thing of life. An eye-witness on the 
"Niagara" has eloquently described the feeling of subdued solemnity which 
gradually took possession of the whole ship's company. Suddenly a great 
calamity came. By the too sudden application of a brake on the " paying-out 
machine," the cable snapped, parted, and wholly disappeared beneath the waves. 
The shock was almost too great for the firmest nerves. All felt as if a cherished 
comrade had just slipped the cable of life, and gone to his grave in the depths 
of the ocean. 

The lateness of the season precluded the idea of repairing the accident, so 
as to continue the work that year. The fleet returned to England, and Mr. 
Field immediately gave orders for the construction of seven hundred additional 
miles of cable to replace what was lost. During all this time his activity 
appeared almost to exceed the bounds of human endurance. Many were the 



THE FIRST SUCCESS. 519 

successive twenty-four hours in which he had no sleep, except such naps as he 
would catch in a railway car. But faith in the final success bore him up. On 
the loth of June in the following year the work of relaying the cable com- 
menced; but another disappointment was in store for him. About two hundred 
miles of cable had been laid, when it broke as did the former one, and once 
more the labor of months was swallowed up by the sea. The defect this time 
appeared to be in the construction of the cable itself, as it was repaired several 
times, and finally abandoned. 

Of course, it required all of Mr. Field's eloquence to induce the directors to 
make another essay; he himself was greatly chagrined at the failure; but he 
still saw that the difficulties to be overcome were not insurmountable, and that 
perseverance would finally win. Again the fleet left Queenstown, on July 17th, 
making their rendezvous in mid-ocean on the 28th ; the next day the cables on 
the '■Agamemnon" and the "Niagara" were spliced, and the steamers once 
more parted company, the "Agamemnon " trailing her share of the cable 
toward Ireland, the "Niagara" hers toward Newfoundland. Each vessel 
reached its destination on the 5th of August. Signals were passed and repassed 
over the whole length, and the~enterprise seemed to be finally rewarded with 
success. Messages were exchanged between the Oueen and President Bucha- 
nan ; a public reception was given to Mr. Field, and the event was celebrated 
in New York and other cities. For nearly four weeks the cable worked perfectly ; 
then came a sudden stop. On the ist of September the cable refused to 
respond. 

The general disappointment was as great as the elation had been, and many 
thought no further effort would ever be made. At a meeting of the Chamber 
of Commerce in New York, a gentleman present presumed to assert his belief 
that the cable had never really worked. Mr. Cunard, of the British steamship 
line, who also happened to be there, immediately arose and vehemently 
denounced the statement as false, adding, " I have myself sent messages and 
received replies." Only one or two others besides Mr. Field retained any con- 
fidence that the difficulties of ocean telegraphy could ever be overcome. 

But Cyrus W. Field knew no such word as " fail." Perceiving, however, 
that he could not under the circumstances hope to obtain additional private sub- 
scriptions, he appealed once more to the British government to come to the 
rescue of the great work of the century. This was liberally extended ; but in 
the meantime the civil war in the United States interfered with further progress 
there. Little was done until 1863, when the manufacture of a new cable was 
begun. It was completed during the year 1864-5, ^"^ the sum of /■ 600,000 
was raised for the company, mainly through the instrumentality of Mr. Field. 
On this occasion but one vessel was employed to bear the cable — but that was 
the " Great Eastern." 



520 



CYRUS IV. FIELD. 



On the 23d of July, 1865, the land connection was made, and the great ship 
commenced her momentous voyage. Day by day the great wheel turned, and 
fathom after fathom of the new cable, heavier and more carefully insulated than 
its predecessors, slipped overboard into the sea. The work went bravely on for 
1200 miles ; but when approaching Newfoundland the old misfortune recurred ; 
in spite of all the care and watchfulness, the cable broke and disappeared under 
the waves. 



Attempts were made to recover the cable by grappling ; 



but though it was 




ARRIVAL OF THE CREAT EAsTlRN. 



several times caught and lifted nearly to the surface, the strain was too great 
for the grapnels ; they broke, and again the cable sank. It was evident that 
more efficient appliances w^ould be required. The spot was carefully marked 
by buoys, and the great vessel returned to England. 

The strain of repeated disappointment was terrible ; but it had at least been 
demonstrated that a cable could be laid and a message sent over it. Public 
confidence in the ultimate success of the enterprise was greater. Before the 
next year Mr. Field succeeded in obtaining large new subscriptions. Another 
cab)-^ was made and all the appliances for laying it perfected ; and on Friday, 



THE FINAL TRIUMPH. 521 

July 13th, the " Great Eastern " again sailed from Ireland, with the cable sinking 
into the ocean as she moved westward. 

LANDING OF THE CABLE. 

Public interest in the enterprise had now become intense. It was known that 
the cable would be landed at Heart's Content, in Newfoundland, and many had 
gone there from various parts of the country to witness the arrival of the " Great 
Eastern." The shore was fringed with visitors, opera- or spy-glass in hand, 
watching the eastern horizon. Fourteen days pass away ; it is Friday mornincr' 
the 27th day of July, 1866, Here at last she comes ! As she draws nearer the 
people see that her colors are all set, which at least indicates that they have met 
with no disaster. With every mile's advance of the steamer the excitement 
grows. Too impatient to wait the arrival, scores of boats put off to row toward 
her. A delay of nearly two hours occurs while the latter connects the heavy 
shore end with the main cable, and at last the two continents are united ! 

Unfortunately the cable across the Gulf of St. Lawrence was disabled, and 
it was not until .Sunday, the 29th, that this was repaired, and the heart-cheering 
intelligence announced to the nation. This was the message :— 

"Heart's Content, July 27th. We arrived here at nine o'clock this morn- 
ing. All well. Thank God, the cable is laid, and is in perfect workino- order 
Cyrus W. Field." 

Almost immediately the " Great Eastern " again put to sea, and, proceed- 
ing to where the cable of 1865 had been lost, succeeded without much trouble 
in grappling it and bringing it to the surface. It was tested by sending a mes- 
sage to Valentia ; and being found perfect, was spliced to an additional section, 
, which was brought to Newfoundland, and both of these cables have been iii 
constant use to the present time. 

Many persons had contributed to this great success, but to Cyrus W. 
Field It IS chiefly due. His energy and perseverance kept the subject constantly 
before the public. His courage inspired others, and his faith in its ultimate suc- 
cess alone kept its best friends from abandoning it in its darkest hours. In its 
behalf he spent twelve years of constant toil, and made over fifty voyages, more 
than thirty of which were across the Atlantic. He devoted his entire fortune to 
the undertaking, and cheerfully incurred the risk of poverty rather than abandon 
It. It is but just that he, who was the chief instrument in obtaining for the 
world this great benefit, should receive the largest measure of praise. 

At a banquet given in his honor by the New York Chamber of Commerce. 
Mr. Field said : — 

" It has been a long, hard struggle— nearly thirteen years of anxious watch- 
ing and ceaseless toil. Often my heart has been ready to sink. Many times, 
when wandering in the forests of Newfoundland in the pelting rain, or on the 



52; 



CYRUS W. FIELD. 



decks of ships on dark, stormy nights, alone, far from home, I have almost accused 
myself of madness and folly to sacrifice the peace of my family and all the hopes 
of life for what might prove, after all, a dream. I have seen my companions, one 
and another, falling by my side, and feared that I might not live to see the end. 
And yet one hope has led me on, and I have prayed that I might not taste of 
death till this work was accomplished. That prayer is answered ; and now, 
beyond all acknowledgments to men, is the feeling of gratitude to Almighty 
God." 

In 1869, Mr. Field was present at the opening of the great Suez Canal, as 




IIK\\llli KAII.RriAD IN M-\V YORK. 



representative of the Chamber of Commerce of New York. In 1880 he made 
a tour around the world, and secured from the government of the Sandwich 
Islands concessions for a Pacific cable, to be laid from San Francisco. He became 
deeply interested in the elevated railway system of New York city, and devoted 
much time and money to its development. The latter part of his life was spent 
in New York, of which he was one of the most conspicuous and honored citizens. 
Domestic troubles and financial losses clouded the few years just before his 
death, which occurred on July 12th, 1892. 




LELAND STANFORD, 

AND THE STORY OK CALIKORNIA. 

HE opening up of the great West was more than the mere 
development of a country ; It was the development ot 
men, the evolution of a new race. Not only did the 
struggle result in the building of an empire, but it also 
brought forth the abilities of the men who made that 
empire great. One of the foremost of these men is Leland 
Stanford. In him were developed not only the powers 
which make a man capable of great deeds, but the sympa- 
thies which lead him to desire the equal development of all 
of his race. He will be remembered not merely as the 
builder of the great Pacific Railroad, not merely as the 
successful business man, but as the man whose desire for the advancement of 
others grew out of the experiences of his own struggle. His greatest monu- 
ment is the Leland Stanford, Jr., University, that noble institution whose object 
is to develop men and women. 

California was a foreign country to the people of the United States when 
it became a part of the national territory at the close of the Mexican War. Its 
immense wealth, its glorious climate, its unlimited possibilities of development, 
were all unknown. Peopled by an effeminate and unprogressive race, it lacked 
all of the features of civilization which characterized the East. 

Shortly after its acquisition by the United States, the discovery of gold in 
its mountain ranges brought the country into sudden prominence. The dis- 
covery was made by James Wilson Marshal, in January, 1848. Marshal had been 
employed to construct a mill on the estate of a hundred square miles which 
General John A, Sutter had received as a grant from the Spanish government. 
Sutter's demesne had been the center of the American colonies in California. 
General Sutter himself a Swiss by birth, was a generous-minded visionary, who 
had shown himself so hospitable to all American immigrants that he had attained 
to a certain pre-eminence in the affairs of the Territory, and was looked upon by 
many as a great and heroic figure. 

The discovery of gold took place on the afternoon of the 24th of January, 

525 



526 



LELAND STANFORD. 



through the finding of the gold. 



1848, just after Sutter's mill had been completed, and Marshal and his men had 
for two weeks made a perilous fight to keep the dam from being destroyed by 
the heavy rains which had set in. In this contest with the water Marshal had 
exhibited a courage which made him half deserve the accidental fame that came 

When his men were exhibiting to some 

amazed Indians 
the workings of 
their new saw-mill, 
Marshal was in- 
specting the lower 
end of the mill- 
race. He came 
back with the 
quiet remark, 
'• Boys, I believe I 
have found a gold 
mine." He moved 
oft to his cabin, 
went back to the 
race, and then 
again returned to 
his men, directing 
them early in the 
morning to shut 
down the head- 
gate and see what 
would come of it. 
The next morning 
the men did as 
they were told, 
and presently 
Marshal came 
back looking won- 
derfully pleased, 
carrying in his 
a arms his old white 

hat, in the top of whose crown, sure enough, lay flakes and grains of the 
precious metal. Comparing these pieces with a gold coin one of the men 
happened to have in his pocket, they saw that the coin was a little lighter in 
color, and righdy attributed this to the presence of the alloy. Then ail the 
men hurried down the race, and were soon engrossed in picking gold from the 




FINDING GOLD IN THE MII.I.-RACF,. 



THE GOLD EXCITEMENT. 527 

seams and crevices laid bare by the shutting down of the head-gate. In the 
midst of their excitement doubts would sometimes arise, and some of the 
metal was thrown into vinegar and some boiled in the soap-kettle, to see if it 
stood these tests. Then Marshal went off to General Sutter, and, feverish 
with excitement, told him of what had come to light. When he returned to 
the men he said, "Oh, boys, it's the pure stuff! I and the old Cap went 
into a room and locked ourselves up, and we were half a day trying it, and 
the regulars there wondered what the devil was up. They thought perhaps I 
had found quicksilver, as the woman did down toward Monterey. Well, we 
compared it with the encyclopedia, and it agreed with it ; we tried aqua fortis, 
but it would have nothing to do with it. Then we weighed it in water ; we took 
scales with silver coins in one side, balanced with the dust in the other, and gently 
let them down into a basin of water ; and the gold went down, and the silver 
came up. That told the story, what it was." 

That did tell the story — and though Sutter tried to keep the story a secret 
until all the work in connection with the mills had been finished, the story would 
not keep. A Swiss teamster learned it from a woman who did some of the cooking 
about the mill, received a little of the gold, spent itfor liquor at the nearest store, 
and then the fame of the discovery swiftly Bew to the ends of the earth. General 
Sutter had been right in his endeavor to keep the discovery secret as long as 
was within his power, for no sooner did the gold hunters' invasion set in than it 
became impossible for him to get men to work his mill. The invaders carried 
things with a high hand, and ended by setting aside his title to his land and 
establishing the claims which they had made upon it. Never was money made 
with anything like such rapidity. Nearly every ravine contained gold. Nobody 
waited to get machinery to begin work. Knives, picks, shovels, sticks, tin pans, 
wooden bowls, wicker baskets, were the only implements needed for scraping the 
rocky beds, sifting the sand, or washing the dirt for the gold. A letter in the New 
York Journal of Conuncrce, toward the end of August, said of the hunt for 
gold : " At present the people are running over the country and picking it out 
of the earth here and there, just as dogs and hogs let loose in the forest would 
root up ground-nuts. Some get even ten ounces a day, and the least active one 
or two. They make most who employ the wild Indians to hunt it for them. 
There is one man who has sixty Indians under his employ. His profits are 
a dollar a minute. The wild Indians know nothing of its value, and wonder 
what the pale-faces want to do with it, and they will give an ounce of it for the 
same weight of coin silver or a thimbleful of glass beads or a glass of grog, and 
white men themselves often give an ounce of it, which is worth in our mint ^18. 
or more, for a bottle of brandy, a bottle of soda powders, or a plug of tobacco." 

California in those days was another part of the world. The journey to it 
overland took weeks, and even months, and was full of perils of starvation in case 



528 



LELAND STANFORD. 



of storm and drought, and perils of slaughter if hostile Indians were encountered. 
When things went well the life was pleasant enough, and is most picturesque to 
look back upon. The buffalo hunts, the meetings with Indians, the kindling of 
the camp-fires at the centre of the great circle of wagons drawn up to form a 







GOLD WASHING IN CALIFORNIA. 



bulwark against attack and a corral for the catde, the story-telling in the light of 
these camp-fires, — all present a picture which men will love to dwell upon so long 
as the memory of the "Argonauts of Forty-nine" survives. But there were 
many times when the scenes were those of heart-sickening desolation. The 



CALIFORNIA WAGES. 



529 



attacks of the Indians were less horrible than attacks of huneer and disease 
which set in when the emigrant train reached a territory where the grass had 
been consumed, or lost their cattle in the terrible snow storms of the Sierras. 

The journey by sea was hardly safer and was far less glorious. Every ship 
for California was loaded down with emigrants packed together as closely as so 
much baggage. Ships with a capacity for five hundred would crowd in fifteen 
hundred. The passage money was from $300 to 5^600. The companies that 
were able to get their ships back 
again simply coined money ; but it 
was no easy matter in those days 
to get a. ship out of San Francisco 
harbor. The crews would desert 
for the mines, and the wharves 
were lined with rotting vessels. 
Vessels which did make the return 
voyage were compelled to pay the 
California rate of wages. One ship 
in which the commander, engaged 
at New York, received $250 a 
month, had to pay on return ^500 
a month to the negro cook. 

San Francisco in those days 
was the strangest place in the 
world. In February, 1 848, it had 
hardly more than fifty houses ; in 
August it contained five hundred, 
and had a large population that 
was not housed. A pamphlet writ- 
ten in the fall of that year says : 
" From eio-ht to ten thousand in- 
habitants may be afloat in the 
streets of San Francisco ; many live 
in shanties, many in tents, and 

many the best way they can." The best building in the town was the Parker 
House, an ordinary frame structure, a part of which was rented to gamblers 
for $60,000 a year. Even higher sums than this were said to have been paid. 
The accommodation was fearful. The worst that can be said of bad hotels may 
here be imagined. The pasteboard houses, hastily put up, were rented at far 
more than the cost of their construction, for every one figured that the land was 
as valuable as if it had been solid gold. 

The greater part of this city was five times destroyed by fire in the first 




OLD .MISSluX INDIAN OF biiLlil 



530 LELAND STANFORD. 

three years of its existence ; but the people, with a hopefulness and energy 
which nothing could put down or burn up, would set to work and rebuild it almost 
as quickly as the flames had swept it away. Everybody worked. The poorest 
man received unheard-of wages, and the richest man was obliged to do most 
things for himself 

When business of every sort was speculative to a degree so close akin to 
gambling, it is not strange that gambling itself took possession of the people 
and half frenzied them with its excitements. Physical insanity was a frequent 
result of the moral insanity of the community. There were few women in 
California, and most of these were of the worst sort. As a consequence, the 
men with no homes to go to in the evenings went into the gambling saloons, 
where they stayed till late at night. According to some descriptions, everybody 
gambled, but, as Royce points out in his admirable " History of California," the 
same men who talk half-boastfully of the recklessness and universality of the 
gambling, in the next breath speak with great fervor of the strength and 
genuineness of the religious life which soon showed itself in the community. 
There is no doubt that the forces for good as well as for evil were strong from 
the outset, and as the community grew older the forces for good kept growing 
stronger. More and more wives from the East had joined their husbands, and 
the young women who came from the East among the emigrants were married 
almost immediately on their arrival. Many a hotel keeper who engaged a 
servant girl at $200 a month was disgusted to find that she married and left him 
before the month was over. With the introduction of family life came a return 
to saner moral conditions, and by 1853 the old distempered social order began 
to be spoken of as a thing of the past. 

Never were so many men from so many different places suddenly 
thrown together, as in California in '48 and '49. What came afterward in 
Nevada, and later still in Colorado, was like it in kind but not in degree. 
The Californian settlers of the early days were without law, and thousands 
of miles away from established tribunals. Every man was a law unto himself, 
except when the community, as a whole, became aroused, and forthwith con- 
stituted itself a tribunal. The Territory was indeed nominally organized; but 
to wait for the regular process of law was to grant immunity to crime. The 
character of "miners' justice" may be illustrated by some of the scenes at 
Sonora, where gold was first discovered. Here there had been law and order 
previous to the miners' invasion, but with the invasion demoralization set in. In 
the fall of '48 the new-comers, following the Mexican fashion, elected two 
"alcaldes," or chief officers, but when one of the storekeepers at the settlement 
killed a man in a fight, both the officers prompdy resigned rather than run the 
risk of arresting the homicide. Another storekeeper, however, called the people 
together to take action. This storekeeper was promptly elected alcalde, and it 



"MINERS' JUSTICE." 



531 



was decided that one alcalde was enough. A prosecuting attorney was likewise 
required, but no one was ready to take the office, and each person nominated 
promptly declined and nominated some one else. Finally the energetic store- 
keeper was obliged to accept this office also. The meeting succeeded in find- 
ing a second man to take the office of sheriff". The offender was arrested, a 
jury impaneled, and the trial begun. The prisoner, on being brought in court, 
was requested to lay his arms on the table, and did so. On this table stood a 
plentiful supply of brandy and water, to which everybody in the court-room 
Helped himself at pleasure. The trial, however, proceeded w'.th much attempt at 




EXECUTION BY THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE IN SAN FRANCISCO. 



legal form, and presently the judge arose and began a plea for the prosecution. 
" Hold on, Brannan," said the prisoner, " you are the judge." " I know it." 
replied that official, " and I am prosecuting attorney, too." He went on with his 
speech, and ended it by an appeal to himself as judge in connection with the jury. 
When he had finished, the prisoner, after helping himself to a glass of brandy, 
made an able speech in his own defense. Night came on, and the jury scattered 
without bringing in a verdict. The prisoner was admitted to bail, because there 
was no prison to put him in. The next day the jury met, but disagreed. A 
new trial was held, and the prisoner acquitted. 



532 LELAND STANFORD. 

The gold fever filled California widi a population almost entirely ignorant 
of the surroundings of their new home, and almost entirely unprovided with the 
necessary appliances for living. The most terrible hardships were endured by this 
population. There was need of everything, — provisions, clothing, tools and 
implements, furniture, wagons and horses, and, above all, the means of transpor- 
tation. To supply these essential things were needed men who had the brains 
and foresight to quickly supply the wants of the rapidly growing State. Each 
man was bent upon taking care of himself alone. Where were the men to 
come from who should take care of all ? 

Into this strange new life of the Pacific coast came, in 1852, a man who was 
destined to bear a great part in its development, and to leave a name forever 
associated with its history, — a name perpetuated by one of those great educa- 
tional institutions which form "a monument more enduring than brass," and 
whose influence will remain and increase when marble shall have crumbled into 
dust. 

In the beautiful Mohawk Valley of New York, near the village of Water- 
vliet, lived the father of Leland Stanford. He was a man of English descent, 
whose ancestors long before had made their home among the Dutch settlers of 
the Valley. He was a plain farmer, and his son Leland was brought up to 
simple country living and hard work. In after life he was fond of telling how, 
when six years old, he had made six shillings by digging horseradish and selling 
it in Schenectady, and how two years later he cleared $25.00 by gathering 
chestnuts in the woods. For education he had the ordinary opportunities of 
a country boy, — work in summer and study in winter. Soon, however, the 
youth determined that he would have an education to fit him for a higher level 
of life. His father, while anxious to forward his son's plans, was not able to 
provide the means. It happened, however, that he had purchased a tract of 
land covered with timber, which he had not time to clear. He made Leland an 
offer of the wood, on condition that he would cut and haul it away, leaving the 
ground clear for cultivation. This offer the boy, then eighteen years old, 
accepted. He had saved money enough to hire help in chopping the wood, and 
he worked persistently until he had the tract clear, selling the wood to the 
Mohawk and Hudson River Railroad. By this operation he cleared ^2600, 
besides developing the knowledge and good judgment which were to stand him 
in such good stead a few years later. 

With the proceeds of his timber young Stanford entered upon the study of 
law in Albany, and in three years was admitted to the bar. This was in 1849. 
Then arose the question where to settle. Albany was the State capital, and 
over-crowded with young lawyers. Like thousands of other young men, Stan- 
ford was drawn westward, and he determined to follow his drawing ; but he had 
an anchor in .Albany in the shape of an attachment to Miss Jane Lathrop, the 



ARRIVAL AT SACRAMENTO. 



553 



daughter of a prosperous merchant. He wisely determined to draw up his 
anchor and take it with him ; in other words, to get married, which he did, and 
then started for Chicago. 

When Stanford reached that future metropoHs of the West, it was in the 
swamp stage of development. He perceived its possibilities, and incHned to 
settle there ; but it happened that in the first night of his stay he was torment- 
ed by Lake Michigan mosquitoes to such an extent that the next mornino- he re- 
solved to escape at once. He went to the town of Port Washino-ton, on the 
lake above Milwaukee, where he opened a law office. For a few months all 




GIANT TREE OF THE YOSEMITE VALLEY, IN 
CALIFORNIA. 



went prosperously. He began to 
secure business, mingled in poli- 
tics, and joined in starting a news- 
paper ; but disaster overtook him ; 
his house, office, and legal library 
were burnt, and he was left almost 
penniless to start again. Like many 

others, he too had been attracted by the sudden growth of California. Several 
of his brothers had already settled there, and he now resolved to join them. In 
July, 1852, after a long, tedious, and dangerous journey, he reached Sacramento. 
In California Stanford engaged in business with his brothers as a merchant, 
and quickly became successful. He easily adapted himself to the novel sur- 
roundings and conditions, and his knowledge and business capacity, joined with 
his personal popularity, soon made him one of the most prosperous and promi- 
nent men in the new State. Among his brothers he quickly took the lead, and 



RAILROADS AND POLITICS. 535 

it was characteristic of him tliat people with whom he was associated quickly 
learned to place implicit reliance on his business ability and prudence. 

In the midst of the absorbing struggle for material success, Stanford was 
one of the few who saw far enough into the future to perceive the political 
problem which was beginning to press for solution. California had been counted 
upon by the advocates of slavery as an addition to the territory for its extension. 
The line of the Missouri Compromise {See Henry Clay) ran through the Terri- 
tory, and the immigrants were from both free States and slave States. Stanford 
saw that the development of the State by railroads and the other features of 
civilization would tend to promote the sentiment of freedom rather than slavery, 
and with rare wisdom he fostered the popular desire for railroads, as a political 
as well as an economic movement. The explorations of the great " Pathfinder," 
Fremont, who had discovered and opened a new route to California, and his 
efforts to win the State for freedom, enlisted Stanford's enthusiastic sympathy. 
He was one of the most earnest of those who joined the Republican party 
at its estabhshment in 1854, and when the idea of a railroad across the moun- 
tains and plains to California first came to be agitated,, Stanford was one of its 
most enthusiastic supporters. 

In 1859, a Railroad Convention of the State was held at San Francisco. 
Delegates were present from all over California, from Oregon, and Washington. 
It was resolved to send a memorial to Congress, indicating the route preferred 
by California, and asking national aid. The Pacific Railroad question became a 
prominent factor in politics, and was one of the measures taken up and advo- 
cated by the Republican party, then just about to win its first great victory. 

In i860, when the Republican National Convention met at Chicago, Stan- 
ford was there as a delegate from California. Lincoln was his first choice, and 
he was overjoyed at his nomination. He returned to California to work for his 
election, and at the same time to push the Pacific Railroad scheme. 

The difficulties of building a railroad across the mountains were immense. 
The idea of taking trains of cars through those tremendous canons, and 
over the snow-capped heights of the Rocky Mountains, seemed to many people 
absurd in the extreme. In the spring of 1861, when the Union armies were 
gathering in the East, a meeting of the leaders in the Pacific Railway enterprise 
was held at Sacramento, and there, on the 28th of June, the Central Pacific 
Railway Company was organized. Mr. Stanford was chosen President, and 
half a dozen of the wealthiest and most energetic men of California, Huntinsf- 
ton, Hopkins, Crocker, and others, were made directors and officers of the 
company. 

The difficulties of the enterprise were very great. A few of the most 
prominent of the company went on horseback over the proposed route of the 
road. When they reached the summit of one of the great mountain ranges, 



536 



LELAND STANFORD. 



they dismounted, and sat down to discuss the situation. At their feet was a 
precipice a quarter of a mile in height. The idea of carrying a railroad across 
these mountains seemed impossible. One of the company said that the cars 

would have 
to be hoisted 
up the sides 
of the moun- 
tains by der- 
ricks; but 
Mr. Stanford 
was confi- 
dent that 
the difficul- 
ties could 
be overcome, 
and he sup- 
plied a large 
part of the 
energy nec- 
essary to 
overcome 
them. 
^*S Work was begun and 

pushed on the building of the 
road. In July, 1862, came the re- 
sponse of the Government to the 
company's appeal for aid. It was 
a proposition to loan to the com- 
pany United States bonds, at the 
rate of $16,000 per mile to the foot of 
the mountains, and $48,000 a mile 
through them. The first forty miles furnished 
a severe test of the courage and endurance 
of the projectors ; and even after they were 
completed, they had still to meet the difficulty 
of supplying the immense amount of money needed in 
construction. Soon began a race with the company which 
was building the line westward from Omaha. The Central Pacific Company built 
530 miles of railroad in 293 days, a feat of railroad building which astonished 
the world. On May 10, 1869, the last spike was driven at Promontory Point, 
Utah, and the long-desired connection of California witii the East w^as complete. 




A BEE RANCH 

IN LOWER 
CALIFORNIA. 



J. . 



THE PALO ALTO RANCH. 



537 



In the meantime, Mr. Stanford had not neglected his political duties. In 
1862 he accepted the Republican nomination for Governor of California, and 
was elected by a large majority. At the close of his term he declined re-elec- 
tion, as the war for the Union was then practically won, and his business affairs 
required all his attention. 

With the completion of the Pacific Railroad began an era of great pros- 
perity in California. A constant flow of immigration poured in from all parts 




VALLEY IRRIGATION IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA. 



of the United States, and the value of property everywhere increased immensely 
Mr. Stanford was a large owner of real estate, and in these years the increase 
in its value made him immensely wealthy. 

About thirty miles south of San Francisco he owned an immense tract of 
land known as the Palo Alto ranch, and here he built himself a beautiful home, 
supplied with every luxury that wealth could secure. A most bountiful hospi- 
tality was here dispensed, and the ranch became the resort of prominent men 



538 



LELAND STANFORD. 



from all parts of the State and nation. But it was something more than a mere 
country-seat. Mr. Stanford had always taken a deep and intelligent interest in 
agriculture, and he made of his Palo Alto ranch a farm which did much to show 
what the soil of California would do under scientific cultivation. His vineyard 
was the largest in the world, and he carried on an experimental fruit farm on a 
great scale. His aim was to develop the possibilities of farming in California, 
and with this view he also established a model stock farm, where he developed 
a breed of horses which soon gained for the Palo Alto ranch a wide fame. The 
best qualities of improved stock were mingled with those of the native breeds, 
so as to secure the best points of all. In connection with his scientific culture 
of stock, Mr. Stanford was one of the first to make use of the new process 

of instantaneous photography, 
which by this means was devel- 
oped along with the raising of 
horses. He secured a skillful 
practical photographer, put un- 
limited means at his disposal for 
experiment, and thus produced 
results which astonished the 
world. 

But with all he had done, 
Mr. Stanford's life work had not 
yet come to an end. He had 
accumulated immense wealth, 
and had made for himself a 
great name ; but the great uni- 
versity which was to be his chief 
monument had not yet taken 
form even in his own mind. In 
Mr. Stanford, as in many others, 
the best and noblest that was in him was called out by affliction. In 1868, 
eighteen years after his marriage, his only child, Leland Stanford, Jr., was born. 
To the loving parents this boy was the greatest of all their treasures. Whatever 
they did was done with a view to his future. All of their desires and affections 
were centred on him. In 1884, while they were traveling in Italy, the boy was 
stricken with Roman fever, and died at Florence. There is a touching story 
that the father (who was away from his son at the time of his death) firmly 
believed that in his d>ing hour the boy said to him, " Father, don't say that you 
have nothing left to live for ; you have a great deal to live for." From that 
time both the parents resolved to devote their wealth and their powers to the 
establishment of an educational institution which should be both a monumeni 




THE GREAT DOMK. AND TF.l.ESCOrE OF I.ICK OBSERVATORY, 
CALIFORNIA. 



540 LELAND STANFORD. 

to the memory of their dead son, and the means of giving to other boys and 
girls the training for life which they had hoped to give him. 

The Leland Stanford, Jr., University was founded in 1887. The great 
buildines are located on the Palo Alto ranch, about half a mile from the Stanford 

o 

home. In his address at the laying of the corner-stone, Mr. Stanford said, for 
himself and his wife: "We do not believe that there can be superfluous educa- 
tion. As a man cannot have too much wealth and intelligence, so he cannot be 
too highly educated." It is, however, an essential part of the scheme of edu- 
cation in the University that it shall be practical, including not only mathematical 
and scientific studies, but also those which lead to a thoroutrh knowledtre of 
business, — farming, engineering, photographing, type-writing, and book-keeping. 
The whole purpose of the University may be expressed by saying that it is 
intended to give the youth of California a practical education. 

Leland Stanford, Jr., University is one of the most richly-endowed educa- 
tional institutions in America. Not only does it own the immense property on 
which it is located, but also some 78,000 acres in other parts of the State. In 
addition to these enormous properties, an amount of money was given sufficient 
to support the institution with an endowment of some $20,000,000; and besides 
this, the larger part of the estate of .Senator Stanford is to go to the University 
at the death of his wife. Claims of the United States against the Central 
Pacific Railroad have of late years threatened to impair the property which 
forms this great endowment ; but it is to be hoped that nothing will be per- 
mitted to really endanger the prosperity and success of the University. 

In 1887 Mr. Stanford was chosen United States Senator from California. 
While never distinguished as an orator or political leader, he was regarded as 
one of the most practical and efficient business men in the Senate. His favorite 
measure, which well illustrates his philanthropic intentions, was a scheme known 
as the "land loan," which provided for the lending by the United States of 
money to owners of farms and other real estate on the security of tlieir 
property. 

The years that he spent In Washington were years of intense toil, and in 
1892 his health broke down. At the close of the session of Congress, in the 
spring of 1893, he returned to his Palo Alto home, convinced that he should 
never again leave it, and there on the 20th of June he died. It was characteristic 
of him that his affairs were at his death found in the most perfect order, so that 
no harm or shock of any sort could result to any person dependent upon him. 
His wife, who in all his plans of beneficence was in the closest sympathy widi 
him, was made his executor. 




GEORGE W. CHILDS, 

THE GREAT PUBLISHER. AND RHILAISTTHROF'IST. 

HERE are two kinds of men who are especially interesting 
to Americans, — successful men who have risen by their 
own abilities, and wealthy men who have used their wealth 
in doing good. Never, perhaps, was there a man who more 
completely combined in himself both of these characters 
than George W. Childs. In one respect he was almost 
unique, — he seemed to have no enemies. This quality 
usually indicates weakness of character ; but though Mr. 
Childs was one of the most amiable of men, no one ever 
accused him of lacking force. He had the rare faculty of ac- 
complishing his purposes without crossing or offending others ; 
and this quality, combined with his generosity and goodness of heart, made him 
one of the most universally popular men that America has ever produced. 

George William Childs was born in Baltimore, Md., on May 12, 1829. His 
parents died when he was very young. His opportunities for intellectual de- 
velopment were limited, and he received but little schooling. It is said that, 
even as a child, he exhibited two traits seldom found in one individual — a 
remarkable aptitude for business, and an unusual liberality in giving away the 
results of his quickness. At a very early age he developed a sense of the value 
of time, and an inclination toward independence and self-support. In his tenth 
year, when school was dismissed for the summer, he took the place of errand 
boy in a book-store, and thus spent the vacation at work. When thirteen years 
of age he entered the navy as an apprentice on board the United States ship 
Pennsylvania. * He remained in the service only fifteen months, and it is proba- 
ble that during this time was laid the foundation of that disposition toward per- 
fect order and system which always thereafter marked his own conduct and the 
direction of the great newspaper to which it was ordained he should attain. 

When he was fifteen years old young Childs went to Philadelphia under 
similar circumstances to those under which another poor boy, Benjamin Franklin, 
once walked the streets of the Quaker City. Like Franklin, he was poor and 
almost friendless, and like him he was destined to make his mark in a printing- 

543 



544 



GEORGE IV. CHILDS. 



office. He obtained employment in a book store, kept by an old Quaker 
named Peter Thompson, in Arch street. He did his work so well that, after a 
year's service, he was intrusted with the responsibility of attending the book 
auctions, and soon became known as the regular representative of his employer 
at the trade sales in New York and Boston. He worked for Mr. Thompson four 
years, and saved a few hundred dollars. With this, and the more valuable 
capital of a knowledge of his business and the good opinion of his associates, 
he determined to start for himself At this time he was a quiet, studious lad, 
spending all his spare time in reading. He hired a small room in the building 
then occupied by the Public Ledger, and did so well that, before he was twenty- 
one, the head of the old firm of R. E. Peterson & Co., publishers, sought an 
alliance with him, and the house of Childs & Peterson was the result. 



.*s.- 



^^j^ 






I? 



-4 ;.^^.^,^ 





^t»rB».iCT.. 






"S-.^:- 



vm 



.•V 



AN OLD COLONIAL HOUSE NEAR PHILADELPHIA. 



Writing in later life of his start in the world, Mr. Childs said : " When I left 
home to come to Philadelphia, I overheard one of my relatives say that I would 
soon have enough of that, and would be coming back again. But I made up 
my mind that I never would go back — I would succeed. I had health, the power 
of applying myself, and, I suppose, a fair amount of brains. I came to Phila- 
delphia with three dollars in my pocket. I found board and lodging for two 
dollars and a half and then I got a place in a bookstore for three dollars. That 
gave me a surplus of fifty cents a week. I did not merely do the work that I 
was absolutely required to do, but I did all I could, and put my whole heart into- 
it. I wanted my employer to feel that I was more useful to him than he expected 
me to be. I was not afraid to make fires, clean and sweep, and perform what 



A SUCCESSFUL PUBLISHER. 545 

_might be considered by some young gentlemen nowadays as menial work, and 
therefore beneath them. 

"While I was working as errand-boy, I improved such opportunity as I had 
to read books and to attend book-sales at night, so as to learn the market value 
of books, and anything else that might be useful to me hereafter in my business. 
it was my aim always to be in a position where I could use my best talents to 
the best advantage. I fixed my ambition high, so that, even if I did not realize 
the highest, I might at least always be tending upwards." 

The new firm was well calculated to succeed. Mr. Peterson had grood 

o 

literary taste, and his partner had the business aptitude of knowing whether a 
book was salable, so that after a book had been issued young Childs was able to 
push its sale to a remunerative number of copies. Thus the combination pros- 
pered. One of the first works published by the firm was " Wells's Familiar 
Science," which Mr. Childs's energy pushed to a sale of 200,000 copies. Other 
well-known successes of the firm were "Dr. Kane's Arctic E.xplorations," "In- 
stitutes of American Law," " Fletcher's Brazil," " Parson Brownlow's Book," 
and many others. 

Mr. Childs remained in the publishing business for about twelve years. 
He had long desired to be the owner of a leading newspaper. This had been 
his ambition for years, and while he was still a lad he fixed his eyes upon what 
was then the popular daily journal of Philadelphia — the Public Ledger — and 
resolved that one day he would be its proprietor. The audacity of such a 
thought in a boy of eighteen can hardly be appreciated by any one who was not 
familiar with Philadelphia at the time and with the solid basis of prosperity upon 
which the Ledger stood. 

HE BUYS THE " LEDGER." 

At last the long-wished-for opportunity came. James Parton tells the story 
in this way : — " The Public Ledger had fallen upon evil days. Started as a 
penny paper in 1836, the proprietors had been able to keep it at that price for a 
quarter of a century. But the war, by doubling the cost of material and 
labor, had rendered it impossible to continue the paper at the original price, 
except at a loss. The proprietors were men naturally averse to a change. 
They clung to the penny feature of their system too long, believing it vital to 
the prosperity of the Ledger. They were both right and wrong. Cheapness 
was vital, but in 1864 a cent for such a sheet as the Led£-er was no price at all ; 
it was giving it half away. Retaining the original price was carrying a good 
principle to that extreme which endangered the principle itself 

" The establishment was then losing $480 upon every number of the paper 
which it issued. This was not generally known. The paper looked as pros- 
perous as ever ; its circulation was immense, and its columns were crowded with 
advertisements. And yet there was a weekly loss of ^3000, — ^150,000 a year! 



546 GEORGE W. GUILDS. 

Upon learning this fact the friends of Mr. Childs whose opinion he sought said 
with decision, ' Don't buy ! ' Nevertheless, he looked the ground carefully 
over ; he made minute calculations ; he kept on his thinking cap day and even- 
ing. He bought the Public Ledger — the whole of it, just as it stood — for a sum 
little exceeding the amount of its annual loss." 

From the day of the purchase of the Ledger Mr. Childs became its sole 
controller and gave all his attention to the work. He brought the paper up out 
of the depths to which it had sunk financially, until at the time of his death it was 
one of the most valuable and profitable in this country, and Mr. Childs for many 
years had been in the receipt of a princely income. 

A GREAT BEXEFACTOR. 

How generously and nobly this wealth has been employed all the world 
knows in a general way, though no one will probably ever know all the good 
done by him. Of George W. Childs it may be said with exact truth that since 
Providence blessed him with means he constantly sought out opportunities to 
benefit his fellow-creatures. He not only gave liberally when it was asked of 
him, but it was his delight to seek out deserving cases where his money and his 
friendship would exchange poverty for comfort, suffering for happiness. 

He often gave in secret, and thousands who were too proud and sensitive 
to make their wants known have blessed an unknown donor for substantial help 
which was sadly needed. Mr. Childs loved to make those in his employ happy 
and prosperous. He erected a new building for his newspaper which combined 
comfort with elegance in a remarkable degree. Such conveniences as bath- 
rooms and ice-water fountains abound, and every work-room is a model of 
comfort. Every man in his employ received a good salary and a handsome 
Christmas present every year. 

When the Typographical Union voluntarily reduced the price of composition 
in 1878, Mr. Childs, on receiving the official notification, said quietly: "I shall 
not make any reduction of wages in this office. My business has not suffered 
by the depression, and why should my men suffer? Why should not they 
continue to receive the benefit of my success ? " 

Every man in his employ was assured of a position during good behavior, 
and Mr. Childs said more than once that he had provided in his will that no 
changes were to be rfiade in the personnel of the Ledger after his death. He 
took a personal interest in the affairs of his workmen, and often made a careless, 
unthrifty fellow a present of a bank book, with a sum to his credit, as an induce 
mcnt to save money. It was his pride that every man of family in his employ 
should own his dwelling-house, and he frequently advanced money to pay for 
the houses of his workmen, without security. He presented his assistants 
with insurance on their lives, and sent to Europe or on other pleasure trips the 



THE PRINTERS' HOME. 



547 



heads of his departments when confinement to business affected their heakh. 
He presented to the Typographical Society a large burial plot in Woodlands 
Cemetery, besides contributing to the society's endowment. He frequently sent 
entire charitable institutions on pleasure excursions during the hot weather, and 
the Fourth of July and Christmas he was accustomed to celebrate by a banquet 
to the newsboys or bootblacks, or by some other entertainment to the street 
waifs. 

Messrs. Childs and Drexel sent their respective checks for $5000 to the 
Convention of the International Typographical Union in 1886, then in session 




ACADEMY OF THE FINE ARTS, PHILADELPHIA. 



at Pittsburgh, provision being made that the individual members should have 
the opportunity to assist in augmenting the fund until it was sufficient to estab- 
lish a " Home" for disabled printers. It was arranged that the printers east of 
the Mississippi should, for this purpose, contribute the price paid for setting one 
thousand ems on Mr. Childs' birthday, May 12, of each year, and those west 
of the Mississippi should do likewise on the annual recurrence of Mr. Drexel's 
birthday, September 13. 

Speaking of giving, Mr. Childs wrote : " I think the habit of generosity may 
be cultivated, like other habits. And I have felt that it is a great mistake to put 
32 



548 GEORGE W. CHILDS. 

off being generous until after you are dead. In the first place, you lose the 
pleasure of witnessing the good that you may do ; and, again, no one can 
administer your gifts for you as well as you can do it for yourself. It is a great 
pleasure to be brought into personal relations of that kind, and to make people 
feel that you are not a philanthropist in the abstract, but that you are interested 
in them personally, and care for their welfare." 

"One naturally thinks of Childs," writes Julian Hawthorne, " in connection 
with the late George Peabody. The two men were friends, and in the latter 
years of Peabody's life he once spoke to Childs as one rich man to another. ' I 
have worked hard to make money,' he said, ' with the intention of giving it away 
in large amounts. I mean to give it away in my own lifetime, so as to enjoy the 
pleasure of seeing and overseeing the good it does. I do not wish my heirs and 
connections to be impatient for my death, consequently have given to each of 
them liberally. I wish to distribute its effects widely, rather than concentrate 
them in any one direction. There is value, not only in the act, but in the 
example it furnishes to others. If you will take my advice, you will be your 
own executor, and begin betimes.' Mr. Childs was quick to adopt counsel so 
consonant with his own predilections ; and he has bettered his instructions." 

GIFTS TO OTHER COUNTRIES. 

So great was his reputation for liberality that he probably received more 
applications for help than any other man in the country. Begging letters came 
to him by the score in his daily mail, and visitors on begging missions were 
constantly calling on him. He was always easy of access, and very seldom 
turned a deaf ear to a deservincr case. But his crood works were not confined 
to his own city and country. He presented to Westminster Abbey an elegant 
stained glass memorial window in honor of the poets George Herbert and Wil- 
liam Cowper. In 1887, the jubilee year of Queen Victoria, Mr. Childs presented 
to the town of Stratford-upon-Avon, the birthplace of Shakespeare, a public 
drinking fountain, with clock tower. He subsequently gave to .St. Margaret's 
Church, Westminster, London, a memorial window to John Milton. This gift 
was inspired by his friend. Archdeacon Farrar. This window was formally 
unveiled on the i8th of February, 1888. In March, 18S9, there was unveiled in 
St. Thomas' Church, Winchester, England, a reredos, the o-ift of Mr. Childs also. 

In many other ways he has given of his wealth to worthy objects in Eng- 
land and on the continent. As a compliment from the English government he 
was appointed in 1876 Honorary Commissioner for Great Britain and the Colo- 
nies to the Centennial Exhibition. He never held any other public office. He 
was frequently urged to accept a political appointment, and was asked to repre- 
sent his country abroad in an exceedingly exalted position, but he refused this, 1 
as he did every other similar off"er. 



DISTINGUISHED GUESTS. 



549 



The homes of Mr. Childs were the abodes of picturesque beauty and of 
everything tliat could make them inviting. In Bryn Mawr, one of Philadelphia's 
prettiest suburbs, was his country house, known by the name of " Wootton." 
Great lawns sloping away on all sides of the house are dotted here and there 
with trees, every one of which has been planted by some man or woman whose 
name has served to make the history of to-day. It is a bright, breezy, wide- 
hailed, and charmingly rambling structure, and it is filled with costly, quaint, and 
beautiful things from all parts of the world. 

Among Mr. Childs' guests were Generals Grant, Sherman, Meade, Sheri« 




THE DRE.XEL INSTITUTE, PHILADELPHIA, FOUNDED BY MR. CHILDS FRIEND AND PARTNER. 



dan, Hancock, McDowell, and Patterson ; Edmund Quincy, Chief Justice Waite, 
A. J. Drexel, Asa Packer, the Astors, Cadwaladers, Professor Joseph Henry, 
Hamilton Fish, Robert C. Winthrop, Charles Francis Adams, Presidents Hayes, 
Arthur, and Cleveland ; Chauncey M. Depew, Cornelius Vanderbilt, Thomas A. 
Edison, Simon Cameron, Henry Wilson, William M. Evarts, James G. Blaine, 
John Welsh, August Belmont, Alexander H. Stephens, Samuel J. Tilden, Cyrus 
W. Field, B. J. Lossing, Mrs. Grover Cleveland, Charlotte Cushman, Christine 
Nilsson, Harriet Hosmer, John Bigelow, Thomas F. Bayard, Parke Godwin, 
Edwards Pierrepont, and many others. 

Mr. Childs said that one of the chief pleasures of his life had been the 



550 GEORGE W. CHILDS. 

keeping of an open house to worthy and distinguished persons. The reception 
he gave to the Emperor and Empress of Brazil was perhaps the most notable 
gathering ever assembled in any private house in America. There were six 
hundred guests, and Mr. Childs' was the first private house at which the Emperor 
and Empress had ever been entertained. 

Amone his Enorlish visitors were the Duke and Duchess of Bucking-ham, 
the Duke of Sutherland, the Duke of Newcastle, Lords Dufferin, Rosebery, 
Houghton, Ilchester, Ross, Iddesleigh, Rayleigh, Herschel, Caithness, and 
Dunraven ; Sir Stafford Northcote, Lady Franklin, Dean Stanley, Canon 
Kingsley, Charles Dickens, George Augustus Sala, Joseph Chamberlain, M. P. ; 
James Anthony Froude, Professor Tyndall, Professor Bonamy Price, Admiral 
Lord Clarence Paget, Sir Philip Cunliffe Owen, Colonel .Sir Herbert, Sanford, 
Charles Kean, Marquis de Rochambeau, John Walter, M. P. ; Sir Charles Reed, 
Herbert Spencer, Thomas Hughes, M. P.; Sir John Rose, Sir Edmond Thornton, 
and Robert Chambers, D. C. L. 

Mr. Childs was an intimate friend of General Grant and of many of the 
representative men of this country and Europe. A friend of his says : " When 
I carried letters from him to Europe, in 1867, his name was a talisman, and it 
was pleasant to see how noblemen like the Duke of Buckingham honored the 
indorsement of an American who thirty years ago was a poor boy." 

His closest personal friend, probably, was Mr. Anthony J. Drexel, the banker. 
They were Intimately associated both In business and social matters, and there 
was a long-continued partnership of the two in charitable work. Every morning 
in pleasant weather Mr. Childs could be seen at the same hour walking down 
Chestnut street to his office by the side of his friend, Mr. Drexel, and in the 
afternoon the familiar fig^ures could be seen returnino- together. " Remembering 
their good deeds," says one writer, "the reader of Dickens was very apt to 
think of the Cheeryble Brothers as he saw the plump and smiling figures of the 
two friends as they walked up Chestnut street on an afternoon." 

Mr. Childs died in Philadelphia, after a brief illness, on February 3, 1894. 

In person Mr. Childs was rather below the medium height. He was 
inclined to be stout, but made it a rule to walk to and from his office and to live 
very temperately. He had a bright, smiling, amiable face, and was never 
known to be out of temper. He was gifted with the faculty of placing every 
one at ease in his company, and it was said of him that he gave a Christmas 
dinner to newsboys and bootblacks or dined traveling dukes and earls with the 
same ease and familiarity. 

" Perhaps I cannot better sum up my advice to young people," writes Mr. 
Childs. " than to say that I -have derived, and still find, the greatest pleasure in 
my life from doing good to others. Do good constantly, patiently, and wisely, 
and you will never have cause to say that your life is not worth living." 



\ 



MARSHALL FIELD, 

THE NIODERN BUSINESS NIAN. 



THE term "New West" to mosi 
of us is apt to call up a picture 
of the orrowth of a grreat agfri- 
cultural country; of vast areas 
of land brought under cultiva- 
tion ; of enormous crops raised ; 
of improved processes in farming 
and mining. But the new West 
in reality includes a great deal 
more than this. With the growth 
of the country have sprung up 
great cities, which are just as 
typical features of the West as 
the mines of Colorado or the 
wheat farms of Dakota. The 
most important crop, after all, is 
the crop which is raised in cities 
as well as in the country, — the 
crop which indeed raises the 
cities, — namely, the crop of men. Marshall Field is one of the men who has 
made the new West. His influence on the growth, trade, and habits of mer- 
cantile life would be hard to measure. A more complete contrast between the 
West of to-day, and the West as it was when he became a part of it, would be 
hard to find. 

Marshall Field was a country boy, born in Conway, Massachusetts, in 1835. 
His father was a farmer, a man in moderate circumstances, able to give his son 
the moderate but sound education which every intelligent New England farmer 
considers indispensable. He had in his boyhood the advantages of good public 
schools, and later of the Conway Academy. Marshall was a quiet, thoughtful 
boy, always inclined to make the most of his opportunities. He never liked 
farming, however, but from his earliest years inclined toward a mercantile life ; 

553 




LAKE SHORE DRIVP'., CHICAGO. 



554 



MARSHALL FIELD. 



and when he was seventeen left the farm and went to Pittsfield, where he obtained 
employment in a country store. Here he remained four years, and exhausted 
the opportunities of the situation, so far as business training was concerned. In 
these four years he developed a determination to reach something higher than 
was attainable in a New England country town. The tendency of the time was 
toward the West, and in 1856 he left Massachusetts and made straight for 
Chicago, where he became 'a salesman in the wholesale dry-goods house of 
Cooley, Farwell & Co. 





A CHICAGO MANSION IN THE EARLY DAYS. 



When Marshall Field reached Chicago, the city, and the whole country as 
well, was in a state of wild unrest and feverish growth. Chicago had been 
originally built on the prairie level ; not high enough above the waters of the 
lake to permit cellars underneath the houses, or to allow facilities for drainage. 
The grade of the street was being raised some eight feet, and the buildings also 
had to come up to the same level. The streets were in a state of chaos, and 
going round them was a perpetual going up and down stairs. 

The most characteristic feature of western life in the year preceding the 



GROWTH OF A GREAT HOUSE. 555 

panic of 1857 was unsettlement. The growth of the country was tremendous ; 
the crops were increasing enormously, and the stream of immigration, increasing 
the population and the products of the country to an unheard-of extent, taxed 
every avenue of trade to the last degree. To do business safely amid the chang- 
ing life of a new country, where men were poor one day and rich the next, and 
where few took time or had the prudence to ascertain from day to day where 
they stood, required rare abilities and a "level head." The whole tendency of 
business at such a time is speculative. To be conservative is well-nigh impossi- 
ble. Marshall Field had a conservative mind ; he was cool, careful, calculating, 
prudent. To such a man a training in the midst of such conditions was invalu- 
able, and it helped him in great degree to form the character which became the 
basis of such great success. 

Over this chaos of unhealthy growth, speculation, and unsettlement the 
panic of 1857 swept like a tornado. Of the prominent business houses of 
Chicago one of the survivors was that of Cooley, Farwell & Co., and the lessons 
which were received in that time of trial made Marshall Field indispensable to 
the house he served. By i860 he had worked his way up to the position of 
junior partner. Then came the flush times of the war, and the unsettlement of 
financial conditions produced by a fluctuating currency. But such conditions as 
these, which, in a man of less steadiness, would have produced a tendency 
toward speculation, worked exactly the other way with Marshall Field. As the 
temptations to reckless dealing multiplied, he grew more cautious and careful. 
While every^body else was expanding credits, he was restricting them. Safety 
was the first condition Insisted upon, and the result was to establish the house 
upon a basis which nothing could shake. 

In 1865 the firm was re-organized, and Mr. Field, who had for some time 
been the real head, became so in name as well, the title of the firm being 
changed to Field, Palmer & Leiter. Two years later, with the withdrawal of Mr. 
Palmer, the firm was changed to Field, Leiter & Co., the guiding and control- 
ling spirit of the house remaining still the same. 

After the war the life of the West exhibited still the same conditions. In 
those well-remembered years of expansion and speculation preceding the panic of 
1873, the great firm of which Mr. Field was the head went on the steady, safe 
course which was inevitable under his control. Their business grew even more 
rapidly than that of others, although Mr. Field had applied to it conditions 
which many in the same line of business believed to be absolutely preventive of 
growth. At a time when other houses were extending almost unlimited credit 
to their customers, and themselves buying on a similar basis, he restricted credits 
absolutely to thirty and sixty days, and required absolute promptness in the 
meeting of accounts when due. This was of itself sufficiently novel ; but a still 
more novel feature was that of paying cash for all purchases, thus restricting the 



556 



MARSHALL FLELD. 



credit which he took even more rigidly than that which he gave to buyers. Nor 
could he be tempted to speculate upon the credit of his house in other ways. 
He absolutely refused to sell goods of inferior character, no matter what the 
inducements offered. He insisted upon practically guaranteeing the quality of 
all goods sold ; and this, with the low prices which a practical cash system 
enabled him to make, drew to his house the cream of the trade from a large part 
of the entire West. 

In 1 87 1 came another great blow, but of a different kind. This was the 




THE BURNING OF CHICAGO IN 1871. 



fire which almost entirely destroyed the city of Chicago. Mr. Field was, of 
course, well insured ; no man of his well-known prudence would neglect that ; 
but in this emergency insurance itself failed, for so many of the companies were 
wiped out by the disaster that a comparatively small part of the insurance had 
was available. 

"What next? " was the question on thousands of lips, as men stood gaz- 
ing on the smoking ruins of Chicago. With Mar.shall Field it was a question 
of the best thing available. Few buildings of any kind were left standing ; but 



AFTER THE GREAT FIRE. 



557 



at the corner of State and Twentieth streets were some horse-car sheds which 
had been spared by the fire. While the smoke was still rising fi-om the ruins 
of the great city, Mr. Field hired these sheds, and began to fit them up for the 
accommodation of the dry-goods business. At the same time gangs of men 
were set to work clearing away the ruins of the burned stores of the firm, and 
;recting on them new buildings for permanent use. In the next year the new 
stores were ready for occupancy. In rebuilding a great improvement had been 
made by separating the retail from the wholesale department, giving to each a 
building adapted to its own especial needs. 

On the heels of the fire came the great panic of 1873 ! but the house of 




WHOLESALE STORE OF MARSHALL FIELD * CO. 



Marshall Field & Company passed through it unscathed. It was hard to ruin a 
house which owed nothing, and whose customers had paid all bills up to within 
two months. The long-credit concerns, almost without exception, went down in 
the crash, but Mr. Field's house stood more firm than ever. 

In the years that followed, the business grew steadily. The wholesale 
department especially expanded, until in 1885 it was necessary to build once 
more. In that year was begun a building of granite and sandstone which is 
to-day one of the finest wholesale dry-goods establishments in the world. To 
the retail store, building after building has been added on the State street side, 
and later a magnificent annex at Wabash avenue and Washington street. In 



558 



MARSHALL FIELD. 



1865 Mr. Field's firm did a business aggregating $8,000,000 ; in 1892 the figures 
had risen to ^70,000,000. 

In 1 88 1 Mr. Leiter withdrew fi-oni the firm, and the name became Marshall 
Field & Company. It consists of Mr. Field and eight junior partners. All of 
these have grown up in the house. The store is a great school, which hat 
furnished from its graduates not only the heads of the business itself, but alst- 
heads for many other businesses throughout the country. 

" Glancing over the hundreds of men in the wholesale department yester- 




THE AUDITORIUM BUILDING, CHICAGO. 



day," says a Chicago reporter, "the writer saw a splendid display of bright 
young faces. Scarcely an employee in the building could boast of forty years of 
life, and gray hairs were not in line at all. With scarcely an exception, every 
man in a responsible position has grown up with the house, and won his spurs 
by merit ; and in a number of cases the spurs carry from $10,000 to $30,000 per 
year salary with them. It is in a great measure true of Marshall Field & 
Company's employees that they are 'raised in the house,' and among them the 
great merchant has found his most loyal friends and ablest counsellors." 




JOHN WANAMAKER, 

THE OREAX BUSINESS ORQANIZER. 

HE time-honored saying that " What man has done, man 
may do," has cheered and encouraged multitudes of 
• patient workers, toiUng upward along the steep road 
to success. But among the mass are a few whose motto 
might well read, " I will do what others have never yet 
done." Something of originality, of special and unique 
power, marks the individuality of a few. Among these is 
John Wanamaker. He has not only achieved success, but 
in achieving it he has wrought chang-es in the business 
world which will long remain as marks and monuments of 
the peculiar powers which distinguish his character. 
John Wanamaker was born in Philadelphia in 1837. Like many other 
Americans who have risen to the top, he began at the bottom. His father was 
a brickmaker, and the boy's first business experience was in "turning bricks" 
and doing odd jobs around the yard. When he was a few years older, school 
had to be given up for steady work. He found a place as errand boy in a book- 
store, where he earned a salary of $1.25 a week. Every morning and evening 
he trudged over the four miles which lay between his home and the store, eating 
at noon the simple lunch which he brought with him from home, put up for him 
by a loving mother's hands. 

Soon he left the bookstore, and secured employment in a clothing store at 
$1.50 a week, — a large advance to him then. He quickly began to rise. He 
was prompt, obliging, civil to customers, and attentive to business. He was one 
of the kind of boys that are always in demand. His salary began to rise also 
and kept on rising. 

John's poverty had obliged him to leave school with a very limited educa- 
tion ; but he was always anxious to get more. He read and studied in the 
evenings, and improved every opportunity to add to his stock of knowledge. 
In later years, when he was asked how he got his education, he answered, " I 
took it in as I went along, as a locomotive takes up water from a track tank." It 
is said that he received a special impulse toward study by hearing a sermon in 

561' 



562 



JOHN WANAMAKER. 



which the speaker used a number of words the meaning of which John did not 
know. Having a good memory, he carried these words in his head until the 
next morning, when he had a chance to look them up in the dictionary. He 
concluded that, as the preacher would not be likely to use words which were not 
understood by most of the congregation, the trouble must be that John Wana- 
maker was uncommonly ignorant ; and this condition of affairs he resolved to 
remedy. 

When the civil war broke out in 1861, John Wanamaker was twenty-three 
years old. He had saved a little money, had acquired a thorough knowledge 
of the clothing business, and married a wife. In April of that year he formed a 
partnership with his brother-in-law, Nathan Brown, and embarked in the clothing 
business at Si.xth and Market streets. From the beginning the business pros- 
pered. Both the partners were practical 
men. No unnecessary help was employed. 
They were not ashamed to take down the 
shutters, to sweep the store, or to deliver 
packages themselves, if necessary. But 
the business soon reached dimensions 
which gave them other work to do. It 
was perpetually outgrowing its facilities 
in every direction ; and to meet and pro- 
vide for this expansion called into exer- 
cise just those powers which Mr. Wana- 
maker possesses in such wonderful meas- 
ure, — the powers of organization. In i868 
Mr. Brown died. By 187 1 the business 
had absorbed all the space from Market 
to the next street, — a space which, when 
the firm began business, had been occupied by forty-five tenants. Still it 
continued to grow, and in 1875 the large block occupied by the old Pennsyl- 
vania freight depot, at Thirteenth and Market streets, was bought, and a store 
built for a business of a new kind. The old, rambling freight station was 
remodeled, and turned into a great mart of trade, where dry goods, clothing, 
furniture, books, and nearly everything in the shape of supplies for the person 
and the home were sold, a separate department being devoted to each. Upon 
the establishment of this great " department store," Mr. Wanamaker concen- 
trated all his energies, and the e.xperience of his previous career in his extensive 
lines of business. 

It is not too much to say that Mr. Wanamaker's innovations upon previous 
methods have revolutionized the manner of conducting retail businesses in gen- 
eral. Up to the time when his clothing store began to make its mark, the atti- 




JOHN WANAMAKFR A?; A YOUNG MAN. 



NEW BUSINESS METHODS. 



563 



tude of merchants toward customers was commonly rather that of a party doing 
a favor. The modern spirit of doing everything possible to conciliate and 
accommodate the customer was almost unknown. The characteristics of retail 
stores were negligent, indifferent, and sometimes surly salesmen ; slowness, con- 
fusion, and lack of method in delivering goods, and general absence of the spirit 
of seeking and cultivating business, which is now the rule instead of the excep- 
tion. Moreover, a sale once made was made forever. A merchant who in that 
day was asked to take back unsatisfactory goods and return the money would 
have met the request with contemptuous astonishment. Wanamaker changed 
all this. He not only sought trade, but made it evident that he was seeking 
trade. A customer coming into his store was met as a courteous host would 
meet a guest. His wants were quickly ascertained ; he was put in the hands 
of a polite and accommodating salesman, 
who did everything in his power to supply 
him with the article that suited him ; and if 
for any reason, or even without reason, the 
goods which he had bought did not please 
him, they might be returned, and the money 
was repaid. When this last feature was 
inaugurated, it was looked upon with in- 
credulous contempt by competitors. "That 
won't last long," they said with confidence ; 
but not only did it last, but they were 
themselves obliged to conform to the prac- 
tice, and it is now the uniform custom 
among the best stores. 

From the time when he first began 
business, John Wanamaker had a rare 

appreciation of the value of advertising, and his persistence and originality in 
this field have always distinguished his business. In this respect also he was a 
pioneer. Before his time the capabilities of advertising were little known or 
believed in. It was done fitfully and carelessly at best. The idea of advertising 
a retail business regularly, week in and week out, rain or shine, good business 
or bad business, was one which was almost as novel as Wanamaker's plan of 
returning the money for unsatisfactory goods. For some time after these in- 
novations were begun, he had the field to himself His competitors had no faith 
that such new-fangled notions would last, and waited with contemptuous confi- 
dence for his business to wind itself up. But they waited in vain. Instead of 
ruining his business under these methods, it grew at such a rate that it was 
almost impossible to provide accommodations for it which did not in a few years 
become too small. As it grew, Wanamaker grew. Every year developed his 




GEORGE H 



STUART, ONE OP MR. WANAMAKER's 
PROMINENT CO-LABORERS. 



564 



JOHN WANAMAKER. 



wonderful organizing powers, and when the time came for the purchase of the 
great building at Thirteenth and Market streets, he was better prepared than 
ever before to build upon it a store in which should be carried on a business 
that would embody the results of all his previous experience. 

The secret of Mr. Wanamaker's great success in business maybe summed 
up in one word, — Organization. It has been his uniform practice to secure for 
the heads of departments the best men to be had, regardless of cost. Many 
men in his employ receive salaries larger than those of cabinet ministers. They 
are given full latitude for exercising all their best powers, and full reward for 
success. Each head of a department is treated as though he were himself 
the owner and master of the department. He is charged with all the ex- 
penses of the department, including his share of rent and advertising, the sala- 
ries of clerks, bookkeepers, etc. On the other hand, he is credited with all of 
the profits made in his department, and if he is able to show good results and 

increased sales, his position becomes bet- 
ter and better. He is allowed to manao-e 
his department in his own way, limited 
only by certain fixed rules of policy com- 
mon to the entire store. This system of 
management gives the responsible heads 
of the business every incentive to do 
their best, and results in an organization 
which is well-nigh perfect. 

In addition to the other motives fur- 
nished by Mr. Wanamaker for those in 
his employ to do the best of which they are capable, it has been for some years 
his practice to share profits to a certain extent with his employees. At the end 
of the first year after this practice was begun, $100,000 of profits were received 
by the employees of the Thirteenth street store. 

Considering the great load which Mr. Wanamaker has carried for many 
years, and considering also the fact that he has not followed the beaten paths of 
trade, but has been a great innovator, and constantly introducing novel methods 
of business, it is not surprising to learn that he has more than once been on the 
edge of failure ; but, like the greatest generals, he is a man who does not know 
when he is beaten. He refuses to recognize defeat, and the result has been 
that even the greatest emergencies have been met, and victory secured. He 
has not only learned how to do business himself but he has taught thousands 
of others. Department stores, conducted on the same plan as that of the great 
emporium at Thirteenth and Market streets, have sprung up all over the United 
States : and for the ease with which buyers of all sorts of goods at retail can 
now make their purchases, and for the general tone of reliability, accommoda- 




BETHANV SUNDAY-SCHOOL TENT, 1S59. 



BETHANY SUNDA Y-SCHOOL. 



565 



tion, promptness, and cheapness which pervade retail business, the buyers of 
to-day have chiefly to thank John Wanamaker. 

HIS WORK FOR OTHERS. 

No one who knows the abounding and restless energy which characterizes 
Mr. Wanamaker, and his humane desire for the welfare of others, would expect to 
find his time employed exclusively for his own benefit. His public work has 
long been a most important part of his life. Before he went into the clothing 




BETHANY CHURCH AND SUNDAY-SCHOOL BUILDING. 



business in 1861 he filled the position of Secretary of the Young Men's Chris- 
tian Association of Philadelphia, an organization in which his interest has never 
ceased. In later years, when he was carrying on a very large business, he 
became the President of this Association. His genius for organization has 
wrought results in that body no less important than those which he had already 
brought about in his own business. He helped to point out and develop the 
possibilities of the organization, which had hitherto been little known. During 
his presidency the splendid new building of the Association at Fifteenth and 
Chestnut streets was built, and this, like his store, was an object lesson to 



566 JOHN WANAMAKER. 

others who were carrying on the same hne of work. Since that time handsome 
buildings for homes of the local associations have sprung up in nearly all the 
laree cities of the United States, and in these homes are found facilities for 
instruction, for social work, and for the help and betterment of young men gen- 
erally, which have made the Young Men's Christian Association such a power 
for good. 

One of the most characteristic of Mr. Wanamaker's enterprises outside 
of his own business is the Sunday-school of Bethany Presbyterian Church, of 
which he has long been superintendent. His connection with this now famous 
school goes back to the days when he was a poor and struggling young man. 
In the early days of his business life, and while still embarrassed by narrow 
means, Mr. Wanamaker went into one of the roughest districts of Philadelphia, 
where low groggeries abounded, and opened a Sunday-school in a shop occupied 
during the week by shoemakers. The district was one of the lowest and most 
disorderly in the city. It was even looked upon as dangerous to attempt such 
work in such a neighborhood. But to Mr. Wanamaker the obvious reflection 
was that the worse the neighborhood the greater the need of improvement. 
He succeeded in interesting the children, and the children interested their 
parents. After a few months the school had so increased that it outgrew 
the accommodations, and a large tent was rented in which it was carried on 
during the summer. From this beginning grew up the famous Bethany Sunday- 
school, which is now one of the largest in the country. Out of the school grew 
a church, whose membership is made up largely of the parents of the Sabbath- 
school children, and of the Sabbath-school children themselves, who have grown 
to manhood and womanhood in the years since this work was begun. Sunday- 
school and church together have wrought a great change in the character of 
that district, and now the person who should suggest that there was danger in 
attempting to do such work in that neighborhood would be met with surprise 
indeed. 

It is characteristic of Mr. Wanamaker that for rest from business he turns, 
not to idleness, but to work of a different sort. His .Sundays are spent in 
religious work of various kinds. He is interested in movements for the spread 
of practical Christianity in almost every direction. He was one of the pioneers 
in the Moody and Sankey revival movement, and before the freight station was 
remodeled as a store in 1875, it was for some months used for the meetings, 
where frequently twenty thousand persons were gathered at one time. He 
was one of the original organizers of the Christian Commission, and of the 
Citizens' Relief Committee, a Philadelphia organization which gives aid in cases 
of sudden disaster, pestilence, or other trouble anywhere, which appeals to the 
sympathies of the citizens of Philadelphia. He is one of the managers of the 
Williamson Trade School. At the time of the Centennial Exposition he was 



POSTMASTER- GENERAL. 



567 



Chairman of the Bureau of Revenue, and raised the first million dollars for that 
great enterprise. He was also Chairman of the Press Committee, and in many 
ways aided to make the work successful. When Mr. Harrison was elected to 
the Presidency in 1888, Mr. Wanamaker entered his cabinet as Postmaster- 
General, — a position for which his talenrts and experience in business organiza- 
tion especially fitted him. His administration of the Post-Office Department 
was marked by a number of reforms, and a great improvement in its methods. 
At the end of his term of office he took a well-earned vacation, making with his 
family an extensive tour through the United States and Mexico. On this 
journey he received many tokens of high esteem and wide popularity. 

Mr. Wana- 
maker has given 
to the various 
charities and 
benevolent en- 
terprises what is 
of more value 
than money, 
namely, himself 
and his abilities. 
Even when the 
duties of Post- 
master-General 
of the United 
States were 
added to his al- 
ready enormous 
undertakings, he 
came regularly 

every week from Washington to Philadelphia to superintend his Sunday-school 
at Bethany. But few have been more generous givers of money as well. He 
has given over $100,000 to Bethany Church and Sunday-school ; he has given 
|ioo,ooo to the Young Men's Christian Association. The Children's Wing of 
the Presbyterian Hospital, practically a complete hospital in itself was paid for 
by Mrs. Wanamaker. He has established on Broad street a home for those 
of his female employees who have no regular home in the city ; and in many 
other ways Mr. Wanamaker has given proof of the spirit of practical good work 
which is the moving force of his whole life. 




LINDENHURST, MR. WANAMAKER S CiU'NTRY RESIDENCE NEAR JENKINTOWN, PA. 



zz 



II 



_i 





/fc 



HSl !^:' 



V :C !l 




'23 4 s 

PLACES OF WORSHIP IN NEW YORK IN I742. 
t. Lutheran. 2. French. 3. Trinity. 4. New Dutch. 5. Old Dutch. 6. Presbyterian. 7. Baptist. 8. Quaker. 9. Synagogue. 



HENRY WARD BEECHER, 

THE OREAX PULPIT ORATOR AND REKORIVEER. 



Kl;l I 



IN the dark days of the War of 1812 
there lived and labored in the town 
of Litchfield, Connecticut, a Congre- 
gational minister named Lyman 
Beecher. Like most preachers of 
that day, he was poor in this world's 
goods, but rich in children. Seven 
of these already gathered around his 
fireside when, on June 24, 181 3, his 
son Henry Ward Beecher, destined 
to leave so deep and strong an im- 
press upon the life and thought of his 
day, was born. 

Dr. Beecher's salary was eight 
hundred dollars a year, not always 
promptly paid ; and under these cir- 
cumstances it may easily be imagined 
that the tenth member of the family 
received only such care and attention 
as were absolutely required. The 
struggle for existence was too severe 
to leave much time or thought for other things. Litchfield was a mountain 
town, where the winter was a stern reality for six months of the year, where 
there were giant winds, and drifting snows of immeasurable depth, and ice and 
sleet storms of a sublime power and magnitude. Under this rugged nursing 
the boy grew outwardly vigorous. When but three or four years old he was 
sent to the Widow Kilbourn's school, where he said his letters twice a day, 

571 




BIBLE BROUGHT OVER IN THE "MAYFLOWER. 



572 



HENRY WARD B EEC HER. 



and passed the rest of his time in hemming a brown towel or a check apron. 
It was not expected that he would learn very much from " Marm Kilbourn," 
but the school kept him out of the way of the "home folks" for the greater 
part of the day. Next, a small, unpainted district school-house being erected 
within a stone's throw of the parsonage, he graduated from Ma'am Kilbourn's 
thither. 

Henry Ward was not marked out by the prophecies of partial friends for 
any brilliant future. His utterance was thick and indistinct, partly from bashful- 
ness and partly from enlargement of the tonsils of his throat, so that in speak- 
ing or reading he was with difficulty understood. The last success that ever 
would have been predicted for him is that of an orator. "When Henry is sent 
to me with a message," said a good aunt, "I always have to make him say it 

three times. The first time I have no manner 
of an idea, more than if he spoke Choctaw ; the 
second, I catch now and then a word ; by the 
third time I begin to understand." 

Sunday was a day of terror to Henry, for 
on that day the Catechism was administered to 
him. "I think," said he afterward to his con- 
gregation, referring to this part of his life, "that 
to force childhood to associate religion with 
such dry morsels is to violate the spirit, not only 
of the New Testament, but of common sense as 
well. I know one thing, that if I am 'lax and 
latitudinarian,' the Sunday Catechism is to 
blame for a part of it. The dinners that I have 
lost because I could not go through ' sanctifica- 
tion,' and 'justification,' and 'adoption,' and 
all such questions, lie heavily on my memory ! . . . One Sunday afternoon 
with my Aunt Esther did me more good than forty Sundays in church with 
my father. He thundered over my head ; she sweedy instructed me down 
in my heart. The promise that she would read Joseph's history to me on Sun- 
day was enough to draw a silver thread of obedience through the endre week ; 
and if I was tempted to break my promise, I said, ' No ; Aunt Esther is going 
to read on Sunday ;' and I would do, or I would not do, all through the week, 
for the sake of getting that sweet instruction on Sunday." 

When Henry was twelve years old his father accepted a call to Boston and 
removed thither with his family. At this time the boy developed a great love 
of adventure, and he was filled with a longing to be a sailor. This feeling made 
him restless and discontented, and he resolved to leave home and ship on board 
some vessel sailing from the harbor. 




OLD DUTCH CHURCH, NEW UTRECHT, 
LONG ISLAND. 



He hovered about the wharves, con- 



AT MT. PLEASANT SCHOOL. 573 

versing with the sailors and captains, and sometimes carrying his little bundle 
with him. But the thoughts of home were too strong for him, and he could 
never quite summon resolution enough to run away. In a fit of desperation he 
wrote a letter to his brother, telling him of his wish to go to sea, and informing 
him that he meant to first ask his father's permission, and if that were not 
granted he would go without it. This letter he dropped where his father would 
be sure to find it. Dr. Beecher soon discovered it, and, reading it, put it into 
his pocket without comment. The next day he asked the boy if he had ever 
thought of any definite avocation for his future life. 

"Yes," said Henry, 'T want to go to sea. I want to enter the navy, be a 
midshipman, and rise to be a commander." 

" Oh, I see," said the Doctor, cheerfully ; "but in order to prepare for that 
you must study mathematics and navigation." 

" I am ready, sir." 

"Very well. I'll send you up to Amherst next week, to Mount Pleasant, 
and then you'll begin your preparatory studies at once. As soon as you are 
well prepared, I presume I can make interest to get you an appointment." 

The boy was delighted, and the next week started for Amherst. The 
Doctor felt sure that the sailor scheme would never come to anything, and 
exclaimed, exultantly, as he bade his son good-bye, " I shall have that boy in 
the ministry yet." 

At the Mount Pleasant Institute young Beecher took lessons in elocution 
from Professor John E. Lovell. Under the instructions of this able teacher, he 
learned to manage his voice, and to overcome the thickness and indistinctness of 
utterance which previous to this had troubled him so much. He continued at 
this school for three years, devoting himself to study with determination and 
success, and taking rank as one of the most promising pupils of the school. 

As time passed on, the ardent desire for a seafaring life began to weaken. 
The stories of Nelson's conquests and Captain Coob's wanderings lost some- 
thing of their old fascination. Life was filling fast with larger meanings. About 
this time, when in a mood of spiritual anxiety, a religious revival arose, stirring 
the deep undercurrents of his nature. Henry Ward Beecher resolved to be a 
Christian, and set himself to "follow the Lord fully." His conversion — if we 
may use that word in this connection — was not the doleful giving up of every- 
thing glad and beautiful to live a life of gloom and sadness. It was a joyful 
consecration to the Lord. If Mr. Beecher could not have been a joyful Chris- 
tian, he would not have been a Christian at all. All life was glad to him. 
Existence alone, under the blue skies and in the happy fields, was a luxury. 
And he judged that the Christian life ought to be of all lives the most joyful. 
True to these convictions, his life was sunny where some thought it should only 
be solemn. Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe writes of him at this period in her own 



574 



HENRY WARD BEECHER. 



characteristic manner: "The only thing," she says, "which prevented Henry 
from talking the first rank as a rehgious young man was the want of that sobriety 
and solemnity which was looked upon as essential to the Christian character. 
He was like a converted bobolink, who should be brought to judgment for short 
quirks and undignified twitters and tweedles among the daisy heads, instead of 
flying in dignified paternal sweeps, like a good swallow of the sanctuary, or 
sitting in solemnized meditations in the depths of pine trees, like the owl." 

In 1832 Dr. Beecher removed from Boston to Cincinnati, to enter upon 
the presidency of Lane Seminary, to which he had been elected. Henry fol- 
lowed him to the West after his graduation at Amherst, and, in 1836, completed 
his theolosjical studies at the 
seminary, under the tuition of 
his father and Professor Stowe, 
the latter of whom married 
Henry's sister Harriet. 

Immediately on finishing 
his theological course, Mr. 
Beecher married and settled 
in Lawrenceburg, Indiana, ac- 
cepting the very first offer 












MURAVIAN EASTER SERVICE, BETHLEHEM, PENNSYLVANIA. 



made hnn. It was work that he wanted, and one place he thought about as 
good as another. His parish was a little town on the Ohio river, not far from 
Cincinnati. Here he preached in a small church, and did all the work of the 
parish se.xton, making his fires, trimming his lamps, sweeping his house, and 
ringing his bell. " I did all," he said whimsically, " but come to hear myself 
preach — that they had to do." 

Mr. Beecher was soon invited from Lawrenceburg to Indianapolis, the cap- 
ital of the State, where he labored for eight years. A member of his church in 
Indianapolis thus gives his recollections of him : — 

"In the early spring of 1842 a revival began, more noticeable than any that 



PLYMOUTH CHURCH. 575 

this community has seen. The whole town was pervaded by the influences of 
rehgion. For many weeks the work continued with unabated power, and nearly 
one hundred persons were added to the church on profession of their faith. 
This was God's work. It is not improper, however, to speak of the pastor in 
that revival, as he is remembered by some of the conereo-ation, pluno-ino- 
through the wet streets, his trousers stuck in his muddy boot-legs, earnest, 
untiring, swift ; with a merry heart, a glowing face, and a helpful word for every 
one ; the whole day preaching Christ to the people where he could find them, 
and at night preaching still where the people were sure to find him. Some of 
those who have been pillars since found the Saviour in that memorable time. 
Nor was the awakening succeeded by an immediate relapse. 

" Early in the following year, at the March and April communions, the 
church had larger accessions. There was, indeed, a wholesome and nearly 
continuous growth up to the time when the first pastor resigned, to accept a call 
to the Plymouth Congregational Church, in Brooklyn, New York. This occurred 
August 24, 1847." 

HIS WORK AT PLYMOUTH CHURCH. 

On his removal to Brooklyn, Mr. Beecher immediately announced in Ply- 
mouth pulpit the same principles that he had followed in Indianapolis ; namely, 
his determination to preach Christ among them, not as a bygone historical per- 
sonage, but as the living Lord and God, and to bring all the ways and usages of 
society to the test of his standards. He announced that he considered tem- 
perance and anti-slavery a part of the gospel of Christ, and should preach them 
accordingly. 

In the ten years of agitation preceding the civil war, Plymouth Church rose 
grandly to the need of the age. When Wendell Phillips found no place for 
free speech in New York or Brooklyn, Mr. Beecher invited him to the platform 
of his church, and counted the words of the great abolitionist no desecration ; 
for did not the Son of Man come to preach the gospel to the poor, and to set 
the captives free ? From the hour that Wendell Phillips made his great anti- 
slavery speech in Plymouth Church, until the Emancipation Proclamation, nearly 
twenty years after, the Plymouth preacher became a flaming advocate for liberty 
of speech and action on the question of the national evil. If there was any- 
thing on earth to which he was sensitive, up to the day of his death, it was any 
form of denial to liberty, either in literature, politics, or religion. 

A touching incident occurred early in the year of 1861, which helped to 
increase Mr, Beecher's reputation as the friend of the slave : — 

A beautiful octoroon girl, raised and owned by a prominent citizen of this 
country, Mr. John Churchman, attempted to make her escape North. She was 
arrested and brought back. Her master then determined to sell her, and found 
a ready purchaser in another citizen, Mr. Fred Scheffer, Mr. Scheffer proposed 



576 



HENRY WARD B EEC HER. 



to Sarah that she should go North, and raise enough money from the Abolition- 
ists to purchase herself. This proposition she eagerly accepted, and, being 
furnished with means by Mrs. Scheffer to pay her fare, she started. A few days 
after her arrival in New York she was taken to Mr. Beecher, and on the follow- 
ing Sabbath evening was escorted to his pulpit in Brooklyn. She was a woman 
of commanding presence, winning face, and long, jet-black hair, and, of course, 
attracted most eager attention and interest from the large and wealthy congrega- 
tion assembled. She was requested to loosen her hair, and as she did so it fell 
in elistenincr waves over her shoulders and below her waist. Robed in white, 
her face crimsoned and her form heaving under the excitement of the occasion, 
she stood in that august presence a very Venus in form and feature. For a 
moment Mr. Beecher remained by her side without uttering a word, until the 
audience was wrought up to a high pitch of curiosity and excitement. Then, in 
his impressive way, he related her story and her mission. Before he concluded 

his pathetic recital the vast audience was a sea 
of commotion ; and as the pastor announced 
that he wanted $2000 for the girl before him to 
redeem her promise to pay for freedom, costly 
jewels and trinkets and notes and specie piled 
in so fast that in less time than it takes to write 
it, enough and more was contributed than was 
necessary to meet the call that had been made. 

In i860 the crisis of the nation was seen 
to be at hand, and Plymouth's patriot preacher 
girded himself for the fight. With pen and voice 
he labored for the success of Abraham Lincoln 
in the campaign of i860, urging the preserva- 
tion of the Union. When, on April 12, 1861, the first shot was fired at Fort 
Sumter, Mr. Beecher sprang to the aid of his country. From Plymouth pulpit 
came ringing words of patriotism, cheering the timid, encouraging the down- 
cast, denouncing traitors, but hopeful of the future, pointing out clearly the path 
of right and duty for those who loved their country. His church, prompt to 
answer, raised and equipped a regiment, the First Long Island, in which his 
eldest son was an officer. Before this regiment went into active service, Mr. 
Beecher often visited the camp and preached to the young soldiers, many being 
" my own boys," as he used to call them. 

Meanwhile, besides the cares of his pastorate, he was constantly delivering 
speeches. At last his health began to fail. His voice gave way, and he was 
imperatively commanded to seek rest. To recruit his exhausted energies he 
sailed for Europe, little thinking that a work awaited him in England far more 
arduous than anything which he had yet undertaken. i 




REV. THEODORE L. CUYLER. 



SPEAKING AGAINST ENGLISH MOBS. 



S77 



On his outward voyage Mr. Beecher was urged to speak in England for 
the Union cause, but dedined on the ground of his health. After some weeks 
of travel in France and Switzerland, he was met at Paris with the news of 
Gettysburg and Vicksburg, and also with letters from friends in England saying 
that a small party there was supporting the side of the North against heavy odds, 
and again urging him to help them with his voice. ■ At last he consented, and 
engagements were made for him to speak in the chief cities of England. 

In order to fully comprehend the situation, it is necessary to recall the state 
of feeling in England at that time. Oliver Wendell Holmes wrote after Mr 




COLONIAL MONASTERY, ILLUSTRATING EARLIER DAYS. 



Beecher's return : " The devil had got the start of the clergyman, as he very 
often does, after all. The wretches who had been for three years pouring their 
leprous distillment into the ears of Great Britain had preoccupied the ground 
and were determined to silence the minister if they could. For this purpose 
they looked to the heathen populace of the nominally Christian British cities 
They covered the walls with blood-red placards, they stimulated the mob by 
inflammatory appeals, they filled the air with threats of riot and murder. It 
was in the midst of scenes like these that the single, solitary American opened 
his lips to speak in behalf of his country." 



578 HE.VRV WARD B EEC HER. 

But Mr. Beecher braved the British lion in his most angry mood. His great 
speeches in Manchester, Glasgow, Edinburgh, Liverpool, and London were 
mao-nificent as specimens of natural oratory, but they were sublime and heroic 
as the utterances of one who loved his country, who believed his country to be 
in the right, and dared to say so in the face of all the world. 

Mr. Beecher had a firmly knit, vigorous physical frame, come down from, 
o-enerations of yeomen renowned for strength, and it stood him in good service 
now. In giving an account afterward he said: " I had to speak extempore on 
subjects the most delicate and difficult as between our two nations, where even 
the shading of my words was of importance, and yet I had to outscream a mob 
and drown the roar of a multitude. It was like driving a team of runaway 
horses and making love to a lady at the same time." 

The printed record of this speech, as it came from England, has constant 
parentheses of wild uproars, hootings, howLs, cat-calls, clamorous denials and 
interruptions ; but by cheerfulness, perfect, fearless good-humor, intense perse- 
verance, and a powerful voice, Mr. Beecher said all he had to say, in spite of the 
uproar. 

The following description of the great meeting in London is from the pen 
of a gentleman who was present : — 

It was my privilege to hear him when he addressed an audience of Englishmen in Exeter Hall, 
London, on the then all-absorbing topic of the American war. Never shall I forget the scene. 
The masses of the English people had already taken sides in favor of the Southern Confederacy, 
and only a few, such, for instance, as Rev. Newman Hall, Baptist Noel, Francis Newman, and a 
few other nonconformist clergymen of the same stamp, had the courage to defend the North, and 
this at the hazard of mob violence, when Mr. Beecher suddenly appeared, and, fighting his way from 
Manchester to London, dared to face the howling mobs who assailed him, and by his indomitable 
courage succeeded in gaining at least a respectful hearing, which at Exeter Hall culminated in a 
grand triumph for liberty and justi< e. On that occasion his grand eloquence carried his audience 
until burst after burst of deafening cheers greeted every period; and the scene at the close of his 
address can never be fully realized, except by those who were eye-witnesses of this grand event. To 
him alone should be attributed the credit of having turned the tide of English opinion, and of 
having succeeded in laying the foundation of that better judgment which prevented the govern- 
ment from officially recognizing the Confederacy." 

Soon after his return the war closed, and he went to Charleston to deliver 
the address at Fort Sumter upon the occasion of the rehoisting of the flag of 
the United States over that work. The news of the assassination of Mr. Lin- 
<^oln met him upon his return to Brooklyn, and drew from him one of his most 
memorable sermons. At the close of hostilities, he preached a sermon to his 
congregation, urging forgiveness and conciliation toward the South as the policy 
of the hour, saying truly that that crisis was a rare opportunity, which would 
never come again if spurned. The sermon was unpopular, and caused him some 
trouble even in his own congregation. 



THE GREAT TRIAL. 



579 



During the years after the war Mr. Beecher was busy with voice and pen, 
in the pulpit, on the lecture platform, and in the press. His reputation and in- 
fluence as a preacher were immense ; and Plymouth Church became the centre 
of what may properly be called a permanent revival of religion. Suddenly, in 
the midst of this busy, happy, and useful life, came the great trouble known as 
the Beecher-Tilton scandal, which, though bravely met and finally conquered, 
cast such a dreadful shadow over Mr. Beecher's life. 

THE BEECHER-TILTON TRIAL. 

"This most distressing episode in Mr. Beecher's life," says an account which 
appeared at the time of his death, " occurred when his fame and influence were 
at their zenith. At a time when the most cultured classes of the country ac- 
cepted him as their guide, when the first place as a preacher and an orator was 
accorded to him on all hands, and when his writings were eagerly read from one 
end of the land to the other, a formidable assault was made upon his reputa- 
tion. At first vague hints were circulated reflecting upon him ; then a direct 
charge appeared in print ; finally, in an action at law, brought by Theodore 
Tilton against Mr. Beecher, with a claim for ^100,000 damages, the whole case 
was disclosed, and for six months the morbid appetites of the sensual and the 
malice of scoffers at Christianity were gratified by the terrible accusation against 
the pastor of Plymouth Church. 

" Three times did Mr. Beecher meet his accusers, and three times the 
charge was investigated. First it was heard by a committee of the church, ap- 
pointed at Mr. Beecher's request, and the committee pronounced the pastor 
innocent. Afterward it was tried in court, when the jury disagreed ; and 
thirdly, by a council of Congregational ministers. Undoubtedly the scandal was a 
cause of reproach not only to Mr. Beecher, but to religion. That it would be so 
if it were made public, whatever the issue might be, Mr. Beecher and his friends 
had foreseen from the first, and, unhappily, in attempting to prevent its coming 
to trial, they prejudiced the case ; their efforts to keep it from the public were 
regarded as an admission of guilt. It was a noteworthy fact that Theodore 
Tilton, who brought the charge, was a protege of Mr. Beecher's, a man pos- 
sessing undoubted talent, a sphere for the exercise of which had been provided 
by Mr. Beecher." 

The unwavering fidelity of Plymouth Church to its pastor during this fierce 
ordeal, the love and sympathy of his wife, and the unfaltering allegiance of a 
host of friends in this country and in Europe, encouraged and supported him, 
and enabled him to continue his pastorate and public work. But the damage 
to the cause of religion was incalculable ; and nothing but the cheerful and 
steadfast faith which had become a part of his being could have enabled him to 
recover from this awful trial. 



58o HENRY WARD B EEC HER. 

From among the latest utterances of Mr. Beecher in Plymouth Church, we 
take the following paragraph, which gives the impression that he was half 
aware that his end was not far off : — 

" I look back now upon nearly forty years' ministry here, and see what the 
fruit has been. It has not been as large and as good as it would have been if 
you had had a better fruiterer. But I am not unwilling to compare with others 
the men and women that have grown up under my preaching, their develop- 
ment in nobleness, their cheer, their hopefulness, their courage, their kindness, 
their lovableness, and their self-denial, which ceases to be self-denial because 
they learn to love working for others. I think I am not apt to be proud, but I 
may thank God that I have the test before me in hundreds and in thousands 
that the word preached by me has been blessed, not simply to the hope of their 
final salvation, but to their present evolution into higher, statelier, more beauti- 
ful, attractive, winning souls. 

" I have never preached what I did not believe ; I have never asked myself 
whether to preach a truth that I did believe would be popular or unpopular. I 
have never been afraid of man, though I have been afraid of God as the child 
is afraid of a father that he loves. The whole conception of life that I have had 
has been to serve my fellow-man, and when, in the day that men despised the 
poor oppressed negroes, that could not plead their own cause, I was more than 
willing, I was inexpressibly grateful, to be permitted to stand for them, and not 
to forsake them until they were clothed in the majesty of equal rights by the 
great revolution. I attempted all my life long to take the part of those who 
had no defender ; and I have done it. And in all matters in my own church I 
have steadily sought one thing — to reproduce, so far as I was able to reproduce, 
the lineaments of the Lord Jesus Christ in your hearts." 

HIS LAST DAYS. 

The dawn of the year 1887 found Mr. Beecher in the enjoyment of good 
health, and full of plans of work. He had addressed himself with new energy 
to the second part of his " Life of Jesus, the Christ," and was also engaged on 
his autobiography, which would have been of unspeakable value. But his sun 
was setting, though he knew it not. The golden bowl was soon to be shattered, 
the pitcher broken at the fountain, and the wheel at the cistern. The voice that 
had swayed tens of thousands, and influenced the history of the nation through 
two generations, was to be hushed in pathetic silence. 

He had often e.xpressed the hope that he might be spared the agonies of a 
lingering illness. His hope was fully reahzed. On the evening of March 3, 
1887, he retired to bed, and after an hour or two of restlessness, he fell into 
that dreamless sleep that knows no waking. He continued in this unconscious 
state till the morning of Tuesday, March Sth, when, with his family gathered 



THE LAST TRIBUTE. 



S8i 



around him, he passed away. A ray of sunlight, full and strong, flashed into 
the chamber just as his last breath was drawn. Calmly, and with no struggle, 
the regular breathing ceased, and the great preacher was gone. The lace' 
though worn, looked peaceful and noble. The blue eyes which had looked for 
the last time on earthly scenes were closed, and the eloquent tongue was silent 
forever. 

There was nothing of gloom in the last tribute to the nation's foremost 
citizen. All day long, through the aisles which led to his coffin, passed the 
ceaseless stream, never pausing ; yet night fell, and found many thousands still 
ungratified. Churches were thronged to hear his praises and thank God for 




PASSOVER SUPPER, AS OBSERVED BY THE JEWS IN NEW YORK IN 



such a man, yet not a tithe of those eager to do him reverence could find a foot- 
hold ; the streets about his resting-place teemed all day with hundreds awaiting 
their turn ; no building in the world could have contained the myriads gathered 
to do honor to his name. 

One who knew him and loved him well writes thus of that funeral scene : 
" He loved the multitude, and the multitude came to his funeral ; he loved the 
flowers, and ten thousand buds breathed their fragrance and clad his restingr- 
place in beauty ; he loved music, and the voice of the organ rose, and the anthems 
which had deliorhted him arain rolled their harmonies to the rafters ; he loved 
the sunshine, and it streamed through the windows and was a halo around him. 



582 HENRY JVARD BEECHER. 

No emblem of sorrow or parting was there, but the symbols of love, and faith, 
and hope, the glad tokens of resurrection, immortality, and eternal reward, such 
as befitted his life, his death, and his fame, which shall endure, for many gener- 
ations shall approve him and bless him." 

" What biographer shall statue this incomparable man ? Almost any one 
may feel that his forehead does not touch the feet of the noble figure ; but it is 
from below that we appreciate impressive objects. Defects of teaching and 
defects of character will be recorded. Men without faults are apt to be men 
without force. The faults of great and generous natures are often the shadows 
which their virtues cast. But there is noble praise for him which far outweighs 
the deficiencies. In the life-long warfare that he waged against the slavery of 
moral evil, and in behalf of intellectual, religious, and political liberty, he wielded 
the weapon of oratory with the splendid excellence of insight, sincerit}', sym- 
pathy, simplicity, and strength. ' Lay on his coffin a sword ; for he was a brave, 
brilliant, and effective soldier in the war for the liberation of humanity.' " 



LEADERS OF RELIGIOUS AND SOCIAL REFORM. 



BY ALLEN C. THOMAS, A. M. 
Pt'o/t'ssor of History, Haverford College. 



Every generation has its men and women who, moved by circumstances, 
or roused by evils around them, boldly grapple with the conditions which 
confront them. Often this has to be begun alone ; afterwards they are sup- 
ported by those who have either been ignorant of the evils existing, or have 
been too timid to enter upon the work themselves. We here sketch briefly a 
few rejaresentative men of this class not elsewhere noticed in this volume. 



LYMAN ABBOTT. 

PASTOR OF PLYMOUTH CHURCH. 

Wide sympathies and broad Christian charity are potent factors in the 
uplifting of men, and there have been many in America who' have exhibited 
these characteristics, but few possess them to a greater degree than the 
present pastor of the Plymouth Church, Brooklyn, Lyman Abbott. He comes 
of good New England stock, and was born December i8, 1835, ^^ Roxbury, 
Massachusetts. He is the third son of Jacob Abbott, so dear to the children 
of the past generation, as the author of those books which were the delight 
of the childhood of many still living — the " Rollo Books," the "Jonas Books," 
and the " Lucy Books." The plain, practical, broad common sense in Jacob 
Abbott, which dictated the composition of these attractive realistic stories, 
has been inherited in large measure by his son. Lyman Abbott was 
graduated from the University of the City of New York, in 1853, then 
studied law and was admitted to the bar. He soon found that the ministry 
had greater attraction for him than the law, and after studying theology with 
his uncle John S. C. Abbott, so well-known as the author of the "Life of 
Napoleon Bonaparte," he was ordained in i860, a minister of the Congrega- 
tional Church. He went the same year to take charge of a congregation at 
Terre Haute, Indiana. After five years' work he became discouraged, for 
there seemed to be little or no fruit from his labors. He came to the 

S83 



584 



LYMAN ABBOTT. 



conclusion that, after all, he had mistaken his calling, and so in 1865 he 
accepted the position of Secretary to the American Freedman's Commission, 
an office which took him to New York. Returning to Terre Haute on a visit, 
he saw thai his previous labors had not been in vain, but had brought forth 
abundant fruit in the lives of former members of his congregation. It was 
perhaps this fact that induced him to reenter the ministry, and for three years 
to be the pastor of the New England Church in New York. He did not, 

however, lay aside the liter- 
ary work he had taken up 
while connected with the 
Freedman's Association. 
He conducted the "Literary 
Record" in Harper' s 
Monthly, and became editor 
of the Illustrated Christian 
Weekly \\\ I'^-ji. Resigning 
his connection with other 
papers he became joint 
editor with Henry Ward 
Beecher of the Christian 
Union in 1876, and its chief 
editor in 1881. After some 
years the name of the paper 
was changed to Tlie Outlook, 
as indicating more nearly the 
character of the journal. In 
October, 1887, after the 
death of Henry Ward 
Beecher, he was chosen 
temporary Pastor of the 
Plymouth Church in Brook- 
lyn, and later he was in- 
vited to rt:main permanently 
at the head of that large congregation. He has written much, and has 
published a number of volumes, nearly all upon religious subjects, but his 
influence has been chiefly e.xerted through the pulpit, and especially through 
the columns of the Christian Cnion and The Outlook, one of the most ably 
conducted weeklies in the country. Popular in its presentation, trenchant in 
Its comments upon contemporary men and events, clear and unmistakable in 
its position, few papers have a more decided influence upon thcMr readers. Its 
tone is high, and its view of what is going on in the world is wide and compre- 




I.YMAN ABIUVrX. 



THOMAS DeWITT TALMAGE. 585 

hensive. All subjects are treated fearlessly and independently, and truth, 
purity, and earnestness in religion and politics are insisted upon. Not the 
least interesting columns of the paper are those devoted to " Notes and 
Queries," where, in a few well-chosen words, the difficulties of correspondents 
are answered, and at the same time valuable lessons are enforced. Lyman 
Abbott is one of the leaders of liberal Christian thought, is sympathetic with 
every movement for the advancement of mankind, a strong believer in practical 
Christianity, and a hater of all kinds of cant. 

As a speaker differing widely from his great predecessor in the Plymouth 
pulpit, Lyman Abbott's success is due to the clearness with which he presents 
his subject, to his earnestness, and to his practical way of putting things. 



THOMAS DEWITT TALMAGE. 

POPULAR PULPIT ORATOR. 

Thomas DeWitt Talmage, another noted Brooklyn preacher, lecturer 
and editor, is a great contrast to Lyman Abbott ; indeed, two men can hardly 
be more different. The one appeals to calm intelligence, reason and common 
sense, while the other appeals to the imagination and to the feelings. The one 
is a quiet, self-possessed speaker, the other an impassioned, almost dramatic 
orator. Born at Bound Brook, New Jersey, January 7, 1832, Thomas DeWitt 
Talmage is the youngest of twelve children. He was prepared for college in 
the schools of New Brunswick, New Jersey, and at nineteen entered the Uni- 
versity of the city of New York and was graduated in the same class as Lyman 
Abbott. Like him also he began the study of law, but after three years decided 
that the ministry was his proper field for work. The fact that two of his uncles, 
one brother-in-law and three brothers were ministers, did not deter him. He 
entered the Theological Seminary of the Dutch Reformed Church at New 
Brunswick, and in due time was ordained. He accepted a call to Belleville, 
New Jersey, and afterwards was settled at Syracuse, New York ; from which 
place he went to Philadelphia, where he remained from 1862 to 1869. In the 
latter year he received three calls, one from Chicago, one from .San Francisco, 
and one from Brooklyn from the Central Presbyterian Church ; the last he de- 
cided to accept and went to the new field in March, 1869. Though the congre- 
gation was an e.xceedingly small one, he was offered a good salary, with an ex- 
cellent opening for work. The attendance increased from the very beginning, 
and in less than two years, a new building being a necessity, he persuaded the 
trustees to build a Tabernacle, offering to give up his salary until it was finished. 
34 



586 



THOMAS DeWITT TALMAGE. 



This Tabernacle was destroyed by fire in December, 1872, but was rebuilt on a 
larger scale in 1874. The new Tabernacle seated 4650, and was the largest 
Protestant place of worship in America. Congregational singing was a marked 
feature in the church, and from the great size of the congregation it was a very 
impressive part of the service. In 1889 this Tabernacle was destroyed by fire ; 
another was constructed, but in 1894 this was also burnt down. 

While living in Philadelphia he began to give public lectures, and soon be- 
came one of the most popular 
lecturers on the platform. 
He has lectured extensively 
throughout the United 
States, always commanding 
large audiences. He has 
been a prolific author, and 
his works have had, a very 
wide circulation, his "From 
the Manger to the Throne," 
a life of Christ, as much so 
as any of his books, e.xcept, 
perhaps, his " .Sports that 
Kill." But no small part 
of his influence and popu- 
larity has been won through 
the columns of newspapers 
and periodicals. He was 
for several years editor of 
The Christian at Work, also 
of The Advance, and of 
Frank Leslie s Sunday 
Magazijie, and is now the 
editor of the Christian Her- 
ald, a religious weekly of 
large circulation. Through 
his sermons, which, by means of a syndicate are published every week simultane- 
ously in about si.x hundred newspapers, he reaches perhaps the largest audience 
of any living American preacher. His lively style and graphic language attract 
many readers for whom the average sermon has little or no interest. 

In all his writings he is vivid in his description, dramatic in his rendering, 
and popular in his manner of presentation. He is undoubtedly the best known 
preacher in the country. Dr. Talmage recently accepted a call to Washington, 
but still continues the editorship of the Christian Herald. 




TI|i>MAS DEWITT TAl.MAnE. 



RUSSELL H. CONWELL. 



587 



RUSSELL H. CONWELL. 



PASTOR OF THE LARGEST CONGREGATION IN AMERICA. 



Russell H. Con well, 
like Lyman Abbott and Dr. 
Tahnage, is a very popular 
lecturer and preacher, as well 
as the pastor of a large con- 
gregation, now perhaps the 
largest in the United States. 
Born February 15, 1843, ^t 
South Worthington, Hamp- 
shire County, Massachus- 
etts, he was brought up as 
a real New England country 
boy, working on the farm, 
doing the chores, and attend- 
ing an old fashioned district 
school. At sixteen he went 
to Wilbraham Academy, and 
in 1 86 1, with a brother, he 
entered Yale College. But 
it was the time of the civil 
war, and inspired with patri- 
otic fervor he left college 
and in 1862 enlisted in the 
Massachusetts 46th regi- 
ment, was made Captain, 

and later a staff officer in the Artillery. He was severely wounded while in 
Sherman's army, and before he fully recovered, the war had come to an end. He 
studied law, and in 1865 married and removed to Minneapolis, where he took 
up journalism, and established one or two newspapers. His health failing he 
gave up business, accepting the position of Emigration Commissioner for the 
State of Minnesota, and went to Germany, but soon resigned his position and 
attended lectures for a time at Leipsic. In 1870 he made the tour of the world 
as special correspondent of the NeitJ York Tribune, and the Boston Traveller. 
As a result of personal knowledge gained at Hong Kong, he published his 
first book, "Why and How the Chinese Emigrate." Returning to America 
he opened an office for practicing law in Boston and met with success. He 
lost most of his property during the financial crisis of 1873 ^"<^ 1874, and began 




RUSSKLL H. CONWlil.L. 



588 RUSSELL H. CONWELL. 

afresh. His mind had frequently turned to theolooical subjects, leading him to 
read much on religious topics. Feeling that he was called to the ministry, he 
began bv speaking to the sailors on the wharves, by entering into various kinds 
of mission work, and by taking a Bible class at Tremont Temple, which, begin- 
ning with four scholars, in a few months numbered si.\ hundred. He hesitated 
some time before entering upon the work of the ministry, but it was not long 
before an opening presented itself Being consulted as a lawyer in regard to 
the sale of a deserted liajjtist Meeting-house at Lexington, Massachusetts, he 
advised the trustees to keep it, and hold service in it, and to their surprise 
offered himself as a preacher. The experiment was made ; at the first service 
there were sixteen or seventeen present, at the next forty, and at the third the 
house was crowdetl. He now was sure of two things : first, that he had found 
his true calling, and second, that there must be a new place for worship. The 
trustees said they could not even pay for new windows in the old building. 
But his mind was made up. and he chose a novel method of raising money. 
Early Monday morning, taking an axe he himselt began to tear down the old 
house. This strange proceeding attracted the attention of passers by and called 
forth questions, with the result that subscriptions kept coming in all day. 
Before the year was out a new meeting-house was ready for its energetic 
pastor. He attended lectures at the Newton Theological Seminary and was 
ordained in 1879. 

In 1882, he accepted a call to the Grace Baptist Church, Philadelphia, at a 
small salary, and with a smaller congregation than the church at Le.xington. 
In less than a year his congregation numbered 1200, and a larger auditorium 
was seen to be a necessity. In 1891 the Temple was finished, one of the most 
complete church edifices anywhere. Its seating capacity is 4100, which can be 
increased by chairs to 4600. The plan and construction of the building show 
the place which the pastor believes a church building should occupy. It has 
the usual features of a large church, in addition to the main room, such as 
.Sunday-school rooms and the Pastor's Bible-class room, which together 
seat about 3000. But behind these are a dining-room seating 500, rooms 
for the Trustees, for the Young Men's and the Young Women's Christian 
Associations, cloak rooms, pantries, kitchens, etc., while in an annex are 
the boilers, engines, and electric i)lant. The church l)LiikIing is intendetl to 
be the centre of the religious activity of the congregation, the place from which 
every religious and philanthropic effort should begin. 

One of the most important outgrowths of this church is the Temple 
College, a place where working people, especially those who ha\e received 
a very elementary education, can obtain instruction practically without cost 
to themselves. The institution is inttMided to supplement, not sujjplant the 
public schools. The extent to which this work has grown, is indicated by 



CHARLES H. PARKHURST. 589 

the fact that during the year ending May, 1894, in the day, afternoon, and 
evening departments the attendance aggregated 2000 pupils. 

Mr. Conwell is one of the most popular public lecturers in the country. 
His receipts from his lectures have been very large, of which it is said, about 
four-fifths have been used to assist the educational work of his church. 



CHARLES H. PARKHURST. 

THE CHAMPION OF MUNICIPAL REFORM. 

Few names have of late been more prominently brought before the 
notice of the people than that of Charles H. Parkhurst of New York city, a 
reformer in the truest sense of the word. He was born in Framineham, 
Massachusetts, February 17, 1842. When he was about eleven years old 
the family moved to Clinton, in the same State. Here young Parkhurst 
attended school, w-as clerk for a time in a store, and prepared himself for 
college. He entered Amherst in 1862 and was graduated in 1866. He was 
Principal of the Amherst High School for two years, and continued in the pro- 
fession of teaching for some time afterward ; but feeling that he was called to 
the ministry, he went to Germany, studying at Halle, Leipsic, and Bonn. 
During this formative period of his life he was greatly influenced by his mother, 
who helped him with his studies, having been a teacher herself But aside from 
home training, the most salient influences of his life came from his fortunate 
association while at Amherst College with its late President, Julius H. Seelye. 
It was on the recommendation of President Seelye that the Congregational 
Church at Leno.x, Massachusetts, engaged young Parkhurst as their pastor 
on his return from Europe. Indirectly, President Seelye was the means of 
bringing the future reformer to New York. As a preacher his style is not 
specially finished, but his discourses are epigrammatic, independent, practical 
and full of force. He is far from being what is known as a popular preacher. 

In the course of his parish work, he became much interested in young men, 
and was led to look into the opportunities which they had in the great city for 
rational enjoyment and recreation. He was much impressed in discovering 
how much vice abounded, and how great are the allurements in a large city to 
draw young men away from purity of life and manners. He found that within 
a very short distance of his own church there were haunts of the grossest vices, 
accompanied by manifold devices to attract and hold young men. In the course 
of further investigation he became satisfied that these places, though well known 
to the police, were left unharmed, or were connived at ; that of the numerous 
saloons, not a few were unlicensed, and that a large Sunday trade was carried 
on in spite of the law. He had become a member of the New York Society 



590 



CHARLES H. PARKHURST. 



\ 



men who, in conniving at crime and infraction of tiie laws, were 



for the Prevention of Crime, and in i8qi, on the death of its President, Dr. 
Howard Crosby, he was cliosen to succeed him. He made a point of his 
acceptance that the Society should devote itself mainly, not to the bringing of 
lawbreakers to justice, but that it should use all the influence and power it had, 
to make those who were bound to see that laws should be enforced, do their 
duty. In other words, that the Society should attack the police officers, and 

the abettors 
antl accessories of those 
crimes which are the result 
of the disposition to immo- 
rality, to gambling, and to 
drink." " We shall never 
suppress these crimes," he 
said, "until we suppress the 
influences which make it 
possible for them to exist." 
As a part of the campaign 
he preached a sermon Feb- 
ruary 14, 1892, in which he 
attacked the administration 
of the city with unsparing 
hand. 

During the next four 
weeks, through detectives 
and through personal visits, 
Dr. Parkhurst secured two 
hundred and eighty -four 
cases of gross violation of 
law, and on March 1 3th he 
preached his second sermon, 
in which he could say "I 
know." When summoned 
before the Grand Jur^', his 
tesdmony was unimpeachable and had great effect, for the Jury in its charge 
boldly condemned the police. It is needless to say that Dr. Parkhurst's 
arraignment created a great sensation, for hi3 sermons were reported and 
commented upon in every newspaper of the city. The individuals who were 
attacked at first smiled and paid little attention. Many who were his friends 
said he was righteous overmuch ; others said he was an alarmist ; others, 
that he sought notoriety ; others ridiculed him, or showed indignation at his 
methods ; some even said he was a public nuisance. Still he kept on 



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CHARLrs ir. rARKIIfKST. 



DWIGHT L. MOODY. 591 

until by his charges and proofs he forced an investigation by the Legislature. 
The revelations made before the investigating committee abundantly con- 
firmed Dr. Parkhurst's allegations. Police officers in high positions were 
brought to trial and convicted and others fled. The community was shocked 
and disgusted by the revelations, and, as a result of the movement begun 
by the fearless reformer, the elections of November, 1S94, completely over- 
threw the political ring in control of the city, which was now placed in charge 
of men pledged to reform, and to honest and faithful administration of the 
laws. It is not too much to say that had it not been for the able and 
untiring efforts of Dr. Parkhurst this revolution would not have taken place. 
He well deserves the triumph he has gained. Every newspaper speaks of him 
with respect and no one dares to ignore him. It is a personal victory probably 
unequaled in this country, and the effect has not been limited to New York. 
Encouraged by his success, men elsewhere, who were hopeless of accomplishino- 
anything in the direction of reform, have been nerved to greater efforts, and 
good citizens have been roused to do their part in supporting Municipal Reform 
by their voice, their influence and their votes. 



DWIGHT L. MOODY. 

THE GREAT EVANGELIST. 

Ai.i, of the remarkable men whose lives and work have been briefly con- 
sidered, are educated men, college bred, and further trained by travel, or by 
circumstances particularly favorable to the development of the intellectual 
faculties. They all, moreover, are ministers of the Gospel, and in no small 
degree have used the vantage ground of the pulpit. We now come to a man 
who has had neither the advantages of college or university training, nor of any 
circumstances which can be held to be in any way specially favorable to the 
development of power and influence. And yet, perhaps, no one of those 
described in this chapter is better known, or has had wider or more beneficial 
influence upon his fellowmen than the layman who still bears the simple name 
of Dvvight L. Moody. He was born February 5, 1837, at Northfield, Massa- 
chusetts, the si.xth child of his parents. When he was about four years old 
his father died, suddenly, leaving his widow scantily provided for. The little 
Dwight grew up, amid the beautiful surroundings of the Connecticut valley, 
living the hard life of a country boy whose family are in narrow circumstances. 
When he was somewhat past seventeen his school days came to an end, and he 
started out to make his fortune. He went to Boston, where he was converted. 
In September, 1855, he went to Chicago, and secured a position as salesman in a 
boot and shoe store. Young Moody's rough and ready manners, his earnestness 



592 D WIGHT L. MOOD V. 

and untiring energy were well suited to his new position, and he was very suc- 
cessful. He carried with him from Boston his desire for Christian activity, and 
after uniting himself with the Plymouth Congregational Church, one of the first 
things he did was to hire four pews in the church and keep them filled Sunday 
after Sunday with young men. Soon he felt he must have a Mission of his own. 
He found, before long, a place to his mind — an empty saloon, almost within call 
of about two hundred drinking places and gambling resorts. Young Moody 
had little education, and little experience, but he had earnestness, faith, and a 
longing desire to help others. The school greatly prospered, within a year the 
average attendance reaching si.x hundred and fifty. 

Though successful in his business, he came to be so full of his religious 
work that he gave up mercantile life altogether, in order that he might devote 
his whole time to the work of an evangelist. The old Northside Mission con- 
tinued to be his chief interest. The work grew, and in 1863 a building was 
erected, the cost of which was defrayed by money raised by Mr. Moody himself. 

In 1 87 1 at a convention in Indianapolis, Moody met with Ira D. .Sankey, 
and was so struck with the power of his singing that as soon as he was intro- 
duced to him, after asking where he lived, and a few other questions, he said, 
•' I want you." "What for?" "To help me in my work at Chicago." "I 
cannot leave my business." " You must. 1 have been looking for you for the 
last eight years. You must give up your business and come to Chicago to 
me." After due deliberation Sankey went, and then began that wonderful 
partnership in the work of evangelization ; and thus was formed that com- 
bination of names, Moody and .Sankey, so familiar to hundreds of thousands. 

In 1872, the two friends visited the British Isles as evangelists. It took 
time for them to get fairly started, but after some weeks, meetings, the like of 
which had never been seen, were held all over the land. In London, the audi- 
ences numbered, in some instances, eighteen and twenty thousand, composed 
of all classes of the community. It was during this trip that the collection ot 
hymns so well-known as the Moody and Sankey's Gospel Hymns was compiled. 

For the past twenty years and more Mr. Moody has continued to live 
the life of an evangelist, and has visited many cities and towns all over the 
United .States, he also has gone over into Canada, and again visited England. 
In 1886 he invited the Colletres of the L'nited .States and Canada to send 
delegates to a .Summer School of College Students at Mt. Hermon, near 
Northfield. This and other conventions at Northfield have been attended 
by many hundreds, who have been addressed by Mr. Moody himself and by 
distinguishetl and ])racticed speakers and workers from at home and abroad. 
At the time of the Columbian Fair he organized a system of religious meetings 
to be held in Chicago during the continuance of the exhibition. Hundreds of 
thousands thus came imder the intluence of the great evangelist. 




WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON, 

THE QREAX ANTI-SLAVERY AQITATOR. 

HE long struggle over slavery in the United States devel- 
oped two characters which were a curious contrast to each 
-y other, — Calhoun and Garrison ; the man who believed that 
slavery was divinely right, and who would sacrifice the 
Union to establish it, and the man who believed slavery 
eternally wrong, and who would sacrifice the Union to de- 
stroy it. Calhoun died ten years before the great war by 
which the long debate was at last ended ; but to Garrison 
it was given to see the final triumph of freedom. History 
6-^iif -^-'. v- ,^^^ records no more impressive scene than that which took 
place after the fall of Charleston, when Garrison stood beside 
the grave of the great advocate of slavery. There were the victor and the van- 
quished. In these two men were embodied the opposing moral forces whose 
conflict had brought about the great struggle. The cause to which Calhoun's 
life had been devoted was overthrown at the cost of untold blood and treasure, 
and the conqueror stood gazing upon the tomb which held his dust. 

WiUiam Lloyd Garrison was born in 1805, in Newburyport, Massachusetts. 
When he was only three years old, his father, who was a sailor, deserted his 
family, leaving his wife and two boys in great poverty. Lloyd learned the trade 
of printing, and when only twenty-one became editor of the Newburyport Free 
Press, in which the earliest productions of the poet Whittier were first pub- 
lished. He afterward edited the National Philanthropist, of Boston, devoted 
to temperance and other reforms, and a paper at Bennington, Vermont. The 
real work of his life, however, began in 1829, when he joined Benjamin Lundy 
in publishing the Genius of Universal Emancipation, in Baltimore. 

Lundy ^^was a gentle and mild-mannered Quaker, devoted to gradual 
emancipation and colonization. He had but little conception of the white heat 
which burned in Garrison's bosom, or of the conflagration which it would kindle 
in a country ruled by the slave power. The theory of gradual emancipation 
was contemptuously tolerated by the pro-slavery party, as it furnished a sort of 
safety-valve which -kept agitation from reaching too high a pressure. When 

595 



596 WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON. 

Garrison joined Lundy, it was agreed that each should advocate his own princi- 
ples, signing his initials to his articles. "Thus," says Goldwin Smith, "the 
Genius had two voices, of which one was by far the louder and clearer." 

In his salutatory, Garrison declared for immediate and unconditional eman- 
cipation. This declaration could not fail to arrest attention in a city like Balti- 
more, which was the centre of slave-traffic, and where slave auctions and the 
shipment of cargoes of slaves were constantly going on. Every week the 
Genius had a column of slavery horrors, a large share of which occurred in 
Baltimore. One Sunday the two reformers were visited by a slave, who had 
just been flogged with a cowhide ; his fault being that he had not loaded a 
wagon to suit the overseer. On his bleeding back they counted twenty-seven 
terrible gashes. Garrison noted that he frequently heard in passing houses the 
sound of the whip, and cries of anguish. 

Garrison's eno-aorement on the Genius was still recent when he eot into 
trouble with a Mr. Todd, a merchant of his own town of Newburyport, who had 
allowed one of his ships to be freighted with slaves from Baltimore. Todd was 
denounced in a flaming editorial, for which Garrison was promptly sued. He 
was adjudged guilty of libel, and condemned to pay a fine of fifty dollars and 
costs, amounting in all to about one hundred dollars. Not being able to pay 
the fine, he was sent to jail. His imprisonment, however, did not depress or 
discouragfe him. He was allowed to receive visitors, and had the free ranee of 
the prison. His friends outside, among them John G. Whittier, were more 
troubled than he himself To their sympathetic letters he responded by con- 
trasting his brief and mild captivity with the cruel and life-long captivity of the 
slaves ; and he asked, if the oppression of one man excited so much sympathy, 
how much greater ought to be the sympathy excited by the far worse oppression 
of millions. After forty-nine days' imprisonment, Whittier was successful in 
securing the aid of Arthur Tappan, a wealthy merchant of New York, who paid 
Garrison's fine, and he was set free. 

This episode brought the partnership of Garrison and Lundy to an end. 
Garrison went back to Massachusetts, and in 1830 began lecturing for the cause. 
But he soon had a chilling experience in the quarter where he might have 
expected warm sympathy. The churches of both Newburyport and Boston 
were closed against him ; if the pastor was willing to open the door, the trustees, 
more careful of financial interests, were not. At Boston it was left for a society 
of avowed infidels to give the Christian lecturer the use of a hall for a cause in 
which they had no interest beyond their loyalty to freedom of opinion, and in 
support of which he appealed to the gospel which they rejected. 

Garrison soon resolved to publish a paper of his own in support of imme- 
diate abolition, — a paper which should have but one voice, and that clear and 
unmistakable. His partnership with Lundy had convinced him that no gentle 



THE POWER OF SLAVERY. 



597 



and gradual measures would 
accomplish anything. Slavery 
was at the height of its power 
Instead of gradual decay and 
extinction, which the framers 
of the constitution had antici 
pated, it had begun to dream 
of endless life and unlimited 




A SLAVE HUNT. 



e.xtension. The people 
idolized the Union, which 
they believed to be the 
source of security, wealth, 
and power, and any threat 
of secession by the slave- 
holders was enough to 
bring to their knees those 
who regarded the Union 
as essential. 

On Saturday, Jaiiu- 



598 WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON. 

ary ist, 1831, appeared in Boston the first number of the Liberator. It was a 
small four-page paper, with four columns to the page, and was to be issued 
weekly Garrison had not a dollar of capital. The paper was printed at first 
with borrowed type. His only helper was his old friend, Isaac Knapp, who 
had become his partner in the enterprise. The two did all the work of every 
kind. In the first issue they declared their determination to continue the paper 
as long as they had bread and water to live on. They did in fact live on bread 
and milk, with a little fruit and cakes bought in small shops near by. 

Emancipation, immediate, unconditional, and without compensation, was 
the doctrine which the Liberator, as soon as it got fairly under way, began to 
preach. The utter wrongfulness and sinfulness of slavery was the basis of the 
movement, and in adopting it Garrison had grasped the certain assurance of 
ultimate victory. 

The salutatory of the Liberator showed that its editor meant to speak out 
without restraint. "I will be as harsh as truth and as uncompromising as 
justice. On this subject I do not wish to think or speak or write with modera- 
tion. No ! No ! Tell a man whose house is on fire to give a moderate 
alarm ; tell him to moderately rescue his wife from the hands of the ravisher ; 
tell the mother to gradually extricate her babe from the fire into which it has 
fallen — but urge me not to use moderation in a cause like the present. I am 
in earnest — I will not equivocate — I will not excuse — I will not retreat a single 
inch — and I will be heard !" 

The Liberator, in spite of the smallness of its circulation, soon told. The 
South was profoundly moved. The slaves, indeed, could not read ; but the pic- 
torial heading, which represented an auction at which " slaves, horses, and other 
cattle " were being offered for sale, and a whipping-post, at which a slave was 
being flogged, spoke only too plainly. In the background was the Capitol at 
Washington, with a flag inscribed " Liberty " floating over the dome. Vigilance 
associations took Garrison in hand. First came bloodthirsty editorials ; then 
threats of lynching ; then attempts to prevent by law the circulation of the 
Liberator at the South. The grand jury of North Carolina indicted Garrison 
for the circulation of "a paper of seditious tendency," the penalty for which 
was whipping and imprisonment for the first offense, and death for the second. 
The Assembly of Georgia offered a reward of five thousand dollars to any one 
who, under the laws of that State, should arrest the editor, bring him to trial, 
and prosecute him to conviction. 

In 1833 Garrison was sent to England by the Anti-Slavery Society. The 
act abolishing slavery in the West Indies was then before Parliament, and there 
was great public interest in the subject. Garrison was heartily received, and 
among other attentions paid him, was invited to breakfast by Buxton. When he 
entered, his host, instead of taking his hand at once, scanned him with a look of 



THE ANTI-SLA VERY SOCIETY. 599 

surprise, and inquired with an accent of doubt whether he had the pleasure of 
addressing Mr. Garrison, of Boston. Being told that he had, he lifted up his 
hands and exclaimed, " Why, my dear sir, I thought you were a black man ! and 
I have consequently invited this company of ladies and gentlemen to be present 
to welcome Mr. Garrison, the black advocate of emancipation from the United 
States of America." Garrison took this as a high compliment, since it implied 
a belief that no white American would plead as he had done for the slave. 

On Garrison's return he was received as a traducer of his country, because 
of his utterances in England. A meeting to organize an Anti-Slavery Society 
in New York, for whicli he chanced to come in, was mobbed, and the Abolition- 
ists driven from the hall. A threatening mob beset the Liberator office at Bos- 
ton. But Garrison, in face of the storm, nailed his colors to the mast. " I 
speak the truth, painful, humiliating, and terrible as it is ; and because I am 
bold and faithful to do so, am I to be branded as the calumniator and enemy of 
my country? Sir, it is because my affection for her is intense and paramount 
to all selfish considerations that I do not parley with her crimes. I know that 
she can neither be truly happy nor prosperous while she continues to manacle 
and brutalize every sixth child born on her soil. Lying lips are speaking ' Peace, 
peace ' to her, but she shall not see peace until the tears of her repentance shall 
have washed away every stain of blood from her escutcheon." 

In October, 1833, a call was issued for a convention to form the American 
Anti-Slavery Society. The meeting-place was in Philadelphia, to which in the 
beginning of December the Abolitionists made their way, though many had to 
meet the difficulties of a slender purse. On the steamboat from New York 
Garrison got into conversation with a fellow-passenger on the subject of slavery. 
The stranger was most favorably impressed by Garrison's exposition, and said 
that if all Abolitionists were as fair and reasonable as he there would be less 
opposition to the enterprise. " But, sir, depend upon it, that hare-brained, 
reckless fanatic. Garrison, will damage if he does not shipwreck any cause." 
"Allow me, sir," said a fellow-delegate, the Rev. S. J. May, "to introduce you 
to Mr. Garrison." 

THE ERA OF MOB LAW. 

In 1834, George Thompson, a famous English anti-slavery lecturer, with 
whom Garrison had formed an alliance in England, was brought over to the 
United States to assist in the crusade. Thompson was a most eloquent man, 
and had done good service to the cause in his own country. The arrival of the 
"British emissary," and his appearance on the anti-slavery platform in New 
England, where he did not fail to show his power, inflamed the popular wrath to 
fury. The result was a riot, got up, not by a rabble, but by " men of property and 
standing," in Boston, who were determined " to put a stop to the impudent, 
bullying conduct of the foreign vagrant, Thompson, and his associates in mis- 



6oo 



WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON. 



chief!" Thompson was expected to speak at a meeting of the Ladies' Anti- 
Slavery Society. Fortunately he was not there ; had he fallen into the hands 
of the mob, it is certain he would have been tarred and feathered, and not unlikely 
that he would have been lynched. Missing their intended victim, the mob laid 
violent hands on Garrison, tore his clothes off his back, and dragged him through 
the streets with a rope round his body. He was rescued from his enemies by 
Mayor Lyman, who saw no other way to place him in safety than to send him 
to prison, to which he was accordingly consigned, the crowd surging fiercely 
round the flying carriage. 

In 1845 the triumph of slavery seemed complete. The annexation of 

Texas, as fresh slave territory, 
was accomplished, and a war of 
conquest against Mexico was 
soon begun. In 1847, Garrison, 
accompanied by Frederick Doug- 
lass, the famous negro orator, 
traveled in the West. When 
seated in the cars, Douglass was 
' 'dered by a white man, who had 
1 lady with him, to "get out of 
that seat." He quietly replied 
tliat he would give up the seat if 
I ;ked in a civil manner ; where- 
i pon the white man seized him, 
dragged him violently out of the 
seat, and when Douglass pro- 
tested, threatened to knock his 
teeth down his throat. At Har- 
risburg, the mob, having heard 
that a " nigger " was to lecture, 
greeted them with brickbats, fire- 
crackers, and rotten eggs. Doug, 
lass was not allowed to sit at the tables of the hotels, and for two days hardly 
tasted food. The clergy were generally hostile. Sometimes places for meetings 
could hardly be found ; but at other places great crowds attended, and listened 
with respect and sympathy. 

The next episode in Garrison's life was pleasant. George Thompson, now 
an M. P., ventured over again from England. He was charged to present a 
testimonial to Garrison, in the shape of a gold watch, commemorating the twenty 
years of the Liberator'' s life. In acknowledgment. Garrison said : — 

" Mr. President, if this were a rotten ^tg'g " (holding up the watch) " or a 




ZACHARY TAYLOR, PRESIDENT IN lS49-'50. 



SLAVERY AND THE WAR. 6oi 

brickbat, I should know how to receive it." (Laughing and cheers.) "If these 
cheers were the yells of a frantic mob seeking my life, I should know precisely 
how to behave. But the presentation of this valuable gift is as unexpected by me 
as would be the falling of the stars from the heavens ; and I feel indescribably 
small before you in accepting it. A gold watch ! Why, I have been compensated 
in this cause a million times over ! In the darkest hour, in the greatest peril, I 
have felt just at that moment that it was everything to be in such a cause." 

In 1854 the slavery question became the foremost political issue. From 
thenceforth no agitation was needed to keep it before the country ; and as 
Garrison no longer stood alone in denouncing slavery, his position became more 
tolerable. When Lincoln was elected, and the secession movement began, 
Garrison welcomed the dissolution of the Union, which he had called "a cov- 
enant with death and an agreement with hell," in the language of Scripture, 
because the Constitution recognized and protected slavery. " Now, then," said 
Garrison, " let there be a convention of the Free States called to organize an 
independent government on free and just principles ; let the South take the 
public property on wh'ch it has laid piratical hands, let it take even the capital 
if it will, and depart in peace to organize its own confederation of violence and 
tyranny." But he had scarcely penned the words when all thought of peaceful 
separation was swept away by the torrent of public wrath evoked by the firing 
on Fort Sumter. 

Whatever the professions of the Government might be, the war was practi- 
cally a war against slavery. While it was a war for the Union only. Garrison 
stood aloof; nor till it manifestly became a war against slavery was his sympathy 
declared. Even then he seemed to feel that his position needed explanation ; 
and he humorously said that when he called the Union "a covenant with death 
and an agreement with hell," he had not foreseen that death and hell would 
secede. After emancipation he heartily supported President Lincoln. He was 
a conspicuous figure on that memorable occasion in Boston when Andrew, 
the great "war governor" of Massachusetts, put the colors into the hands of 
Colonel Shaw, the devoted young commander of the first negro regiment, who 
fell while leading his regiment in the assault on Fort Wagner. After the close 
of the war, when the thirteenth amendment, abolishing slavery, was passed, he 
felt that the long contest was at an end. He resolved to cease the publication 
of the Liberator, and retire to private life. "Most happy am I," he said, "to 
be no longer in conflict with the mass of my fellow-countrymen on the subject of 
slavery. For no man of any refinement or sensibility can be indifferent to the 
approbation of his fellow-men, if it be rightly earned." 

Most touching and inspiring was the strain of praise and thanksgiving with 
which he concluded the Liberator : — 

" Rejoice, and give praise and glory to God, ye who have so long and 
35 



6o2 WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON. 

■60 untiringly participated in all the trials and vicissitudes of that mighty conflict ! 
Having sown in tears, now reap in joy. Hail, redeemed, regenerated America ! 
Hail, North and South, East and West ! Hail, the cause of peace, of liberty, 
of righteousness, thus mightily strengthened and signally glorified ! . . . Hail, 
ye ransomed millions, no more to be chained, scourged, mutilated, bought and 
sold in the market, robbed of all rights, hunted as partridges upon the moun- 
tains, in your flight to obtain deliverance from the house of bondage, branded 
and scorned as a connecting link between the human race and the brute creation ! 
Hail, all nations, tribes, kindreds, and peoples, ' made of one blood.' interested 
in a common redemption, heirs of the same immortal destiny ! Hail, angels in 
glory and spirits of the just made perfect, and tune your harps anew, singing, 
' Great and marvelous are thy works. Lord God Almighty ! just and true are thy 
ways, thou King of .Saints !". . . 

The evening of Garrison's life was as peaceful as its prime had been 
stormy. He was a frequent contributor to periodicals, and he took a keen 
interest in political affairs, especially in all measures affecting the black race. 
His work had won for him many devoted friends, both in America and 
England, in whose society his leisure was happily spent. 

He died in New York on May 24, 1879, and was buried in Boston. 



THE STORY OR AMERICAN SLAVERY. 




THE history of the negro in America Is, in brief, the 
^^ record of slavery agitation, poHtical struggle, civil 
war, emancipation, and gradual growth into citizenship. 
When, over two hundred and seventy years ago — 
it is in doubt whether the correct date is 1619 or 
1620 — a few wretched negroes, some say fourteen 
some say twenty, were bartered for provisions by the 
crew of a Dutch man-of-war, then lying off the Virginia 
coast, it would have seemed incredible that in 1890 
the negro population of the Southern States alone 
should almost reach a total of seven million souls. The peculiarity of the 
form of slavery, begun almost by chance it seemed, in that act of barter in 
the feeble little colony of Virginia, was that it was based on the claim of 
race inferiority. African negroes had, indeed, been sold into slavery among 
many nations for perhaps three thousand years ; but in its earlier periods 
slavery was rather the outcome of war than the deliberate subject of trade, and 
white captives no less than black were ruthlessly thrown into servitude. It has 
been estimated that in historical times some forty million Africans have been 
enslaved. The discovery and colonization of America gave an immense 
stimulus to the African slave trade. The Spaniards found the Indian an intract- 
able slave, and for the arduous labors of colonization soon began to make use 
of negro slaves, importing them in great numbers and declaring that one negro 
was worth, as a human beast of burden, four Indians. Soon the English 
adventurers took up the traffic. It is to Sir John Hawkins, the ardent dis- 
coverer, that the English-speaking peoples owe their participation in the slave 
trade. He has put it on record as the result of one of his famous voyages, that: 
he found "that negroes were very good merchandise in Hispaniola and might 
easily be had on the coast of Guinea." For his early adventures of this kind! 
he was roundly taken to task by Queen Elizabeth. But tradition says that he 
boldly faced her with argument, and ended by convincing the Virgin Queen 
that the slave trade was not merely a lucrative but a philanthropic undertaking. 

603 



6o4 THE STORY OF AMERICAN SLA VERY. 

Certain it is that she acquiesced in future slave trading, while her successors, 
Charles II and James II, chartered four slave trading companies and received 
a share in their profits. It is noteworthy that both Great Britain and the United 
States recoenized the horrors of the slave trade as regards the seizing and 
transportation from Africa of the unhappy negroes, long before they could 
bring themselves to deal with the problem of slavery as a domestic institution. 
Of those horrors nothing can be said in exaggeration. They exist to-day in the 
interior of Africa, in no less terrible form than a hundred years ago ; and the year 
1 89 1 has seen the Great Powers combining in the attempt to eradicate an evil of 
enormous and growing proportions. The peculiar atrocities attending the expor» 
tation of slaves from Africa to other countries have, however, happily become a 
thing of the past. What those atrocities were even in our day may be judged 
from one of many accounts given by a no means squeamish or over sensitive sailor, 
Admiral Hobart. He thus describes the appearance of a slaver just captured by a 
British ship : "There were four hundred and sixty Africans on board, and what 
a sight it was ! The schooner had been eighty-five days at sea. They were 
short of water and provisions ; three distinct diseases — namely, small-pox, 
ophthalmia, and diarrhoea in its worst form — had broken out, while coming 
across, among the poor, doomed wretches. On opening the hold we saw a 
mass of arms, legs, and bodies, all crushed together. Many of the bodies to 
whom these limbs belonged were dead or dying. In fact, when we had made 
some sort of clearance among them we found in that fearful hold eleven bodies 
lying among the living freight. Water ! Water ! was the cry. Many of them 
as soon as free jumped into the sea, partly from the delirious state they were 
in, partly because they had been told that if taken by the English they would 
be tortured and eaten." 

The institution of slavery, introduced as we have seen into Virginia, grew 
at first very slowly. Twenty-five years after the first slaves were landed the 
negro population of the colony was only three hundred. But the conditions of 
agriculture and of climate were such, that once slavery obtained a fair start, it 
spread with continually increasing rapidity. We find the Colonial Assembly 
passing one after another a series of laws defining the condition of the negro 
slave more and more clearly, and more and more pitilessly. Thus, a distinction 
was soon made between them and Indians held in servitude. It was enacted, 
" that all ser\'ants not being Christians imported into this colony by shipping, 
shall be slaves for their lives ; but what shall come by land shall serve, if boyes 
or girles until thirty years of age, if men or women twelve years and no longer." 
And before the end of the century a long series of laws so encompassed the 
negro with limitations and prohibitions, that he almost ceased to have any 
criminal or civil rights and became a mere personal chattel. 

In some of the Northern colonies slavery seemed to take root as readily 



BEGINNING OF THE SLAVE TRAFFIC. 



605 



and to flourish as rapidly as in the South. It was only after a considerable time 
that social and commercial conditions arose which led to its gradual abandon- 
ment. In New York a mild type of negro slavery was introduced by the Dutch- 
The relation of master and slave seems in the 
period of the Dutch rule, to have been free from 
great severity or cruelty. After the seizure of the 
government by the English, however, the institution 
was officially recognized and even encouraged. 
The slave trade grew in magnitude ; and here 




again we find a series of oppres- 
sive laws forbidding the meet- 
ing of negroes together, laying 
down penalties for concealing 
slaves, and the like. In the 
early years of the eighteenth 
century fears of insurrection 
became prevalent, and these 
fears culminated in 1741 in the episode of the so-called Negro Plot. Very briefly 
stated, this plot grew out of a succession of fires supposed to have been the work 
of negro incendiaries. The most astonishing contradictions and self-inculpations 



6o6 THE STORY OF AMERICAN SLA VERY. 

are to be found in the involved mass of testimony taken at the different trials. 
It is certain that the perjury and incoherent accusations of these trials can 
only be equaled by those of the alleged witches at Salem, or of the famous 
Popish plot of Titus Oates. The result is summed up in the bare statement 
that in three months one hundred and fifty negroes were imprisoned, of 
whom fourteen were burned at the stake, eighteen hanged, and seventy-one 
were transported. Another result was the passing of even more stringent 
legislation, curtailing the rights and defining the legal status of the slave. 
When the Revolution broke out there were not less than fifteen thousand 
slaves in New York, a number greatly in excess of that held by any other 
Northern colony. 

Massachusetts, the home in later days of so many of the most eloquent 
abolition agitators, was from the very first, until after the war with Great Britain 
was well under way, a stronghold of slavery. The records of 1633 tell of the 
fright of Indians who saw a "Blackamoor" in a tree-top whom they took for 
the devil in person, but who turned out to be an escaped slave. A few years 
later the authorities of the colony officially recognized the institution. It is true 
that in 1645 the general court of Massachusetts ordered certain kidnapped 
negroes to be returned to their native country, but this was not because they 
were slaves but because their holders had stolen them away from other masters. 
Despite specious arguments to the contrary, it is certain that, to quote Chief 
Justice Parsons, " Slavefy was introduced into Massachusetts soon after its first 
settlement, and was tolerated until the ratification of the present constitution in 
1780." The curious may find in ancient Boston newspapers no lack of such 
advertisements as that, in 1728, of the sale of "two very likely negro girls" 
and of " A likely negro woman of about nineteen years and a child about seven 
months of age, to be sold together or apart." A Tory writer before the out- 
break of the Revolution, sneers at the Bostonians for their talk about freedom 
when they possessed two thousand negro slaves. Even Peter Faneuil, who 
built the famous " Cradle of Liberty," was himself, at that very time, actively 
engaged in the slave trade. There is some truth in the once common taunt of 
the pro-slavery orators that the North imported slaves, the South only bought 
them. Certainly there was no more active centre of the slave trade than Bris- 
tol Bay, whence cargoes of rum and iron goods were sent to the African coast 
and exchanged for human cargoes. These slaves were, however, usually taken, 
not to Massachusetts, but to the West Indies or to Virginia. One curious out- 
come of slavery in Massachusetts was that from the gross superstition of a 
negro slave, Tituba, first sprang the hideous delusions of the Salem witchcraft 
trials. The negro, it may be here noted, played a not insignificant part in 
Massachusetts Revolutionary annals. Of negro blood was Crispus Attucks, 
one of the "martyrs" of the Boston riot; it was a negro whose shot killed the 




EXECUTING NEGROES IN NEW YORK. 



6o8 THE STORY OF AMERICAN SLAVERY. 

British General Pitcairn at Bunker Hill ; and it was a negro also who planned 
the attack on Percy's supply train. 

As with New York and Massachusetts, so with the other colonies. Either 
slavery was introduced by greedy speculators from abroad or it spread easily 
from adjoin'ng colonies. In 1776 the slave population of the thirteen colonies 
was almost exactly half a million, nine-tenths of whom were to be foimd in the 
Southern States. In the War of the Revolution the question of arming the 
negroes raised bitter opposition. In the end a comparatively few were enrolled, 
and it is admitted that they served faithfully and with courage. Rhode Island 
even formed a regiment of blacks, and at the siege of Newport and afterwards 
at Point's Bridge, New York, this body of soldiers fought not only without reproach 
but with positive heroism. 

With the debates preceding the adoption of the present Constitution of the 
United States the political problem of slavery as a national question began. 
Under the colonial system the responsibility for the traffic might be charged, 
with some justice, to the mother country. But from the day when the Declaration 
of Independence asserted " That all men are created equal, that they are endowed 
by their Creator with certain inalienable rights ; that among these are life, liberty 
and the pursuit of happiness," the peoples of the new, self-governing States 
could not but have seen that with them lay the responsibility. There is ample 
evidence that the fixing of the popular mind on liberty as an ideal bore results 
immediately in arousing anti-slavery sentiment. Such sentiment existed in the 
South as well as in the North. Even North Carolina in 1 786 declared the slave 
trade of "evil consequences and highly impolitic." All the Northern States 
abolished slavery, beginning with Vermont, in 1777 and ending with New Jersey 
in 1804. It should be added, however, that many of the Northern slaves were 
not freed, but sold to the South. As we have already intimated, also, the 
agricultural and commercial conditions in the North were such as to make slave 
labor less and less profitable, while in the South the social order of things, 
agricultural conditions, and the climate, were gradually making it seemingly 
indispensable. 

When the Constitutional debates began the trend of opinion seemed 
strongly against slavery. Many delegates thought that the evil would die out 
of itself. One thought the abolition of slavery already rapidly going on and 
soon to be completed. Another asserted that "slavery in time will not be a 
speck in our country." Mr. Jefferson, on the other hand, in view of the retention 
of slavery, declared roundly that he trembled for his country when he remem- 
bered that God was just. And John Adams urged again and again that " every 
measure of prudence ought to be assumed for the eventual total extirpation 
of slavery from the United States." The obstinate States in the convention 
were South Carolina and Georgia. Their delegates declared that their States 



SLAVERY ESTABLISHED IN THE SOUTH. 609 

would absolutely refuse ratification to the Constitution unless slavery were 
recognized. The compromise sections finally agreed upon avoided the use of 
the words slave and slavery but clearly recognized the institution and even gave 
the slave States the advantage of sending representatives to Congress on a 
basis of population determined by adding to the whole number of free persons, 
"three-fifths of all other persons." The other persons thus referred to were, it 
is needless to add, negro slaves. 

The entire dealing with the question of slavery, at the framing of the Con- 
stitution, was a series of compromises. This is seen again in the postponement 
of forbidding the slave trade from abroad. Some of the Southern States had 
absolutely declined to listen to any proposition which would restrict their freedom 
of action in this matter, and they were yielded to so far that Congress was 
forbidden to make the traffic unlawful before the year 1808. As that time ap- 
proached, President Jefferson urged Congress to withdraw the country from all 
" further participation in those violations of human rights which have so long been 
continued on the unoffending inhabitants of Africa." Such an act was at once 
adopted, and by it heavy fines were imposed on all persons fitting out vessels 
for the slave trade and also upon all actually engaged in the trade, while vessels 
so employed became absolutely forfeited. Twelve years later another act was 
passed declaring the importation of slaves to be actual piracy. This latter law, 
however, was of little practical value, as it was not until 1861 that a conviction 
was obtained under it. Then, at last, when the whole slave question was about 
to be settled forever, a ship-master was convicted and hanged for piracy in New 
York for the crime of being engaged in the slave trade. In despite of all laws, 
however, the trade in slaves was continued secretly, and the profits were so 
enormous that the risks did not prevent continual attempts to smuggle slaves 
into the territory of the United States. 

The first quarter of a century of our history, after the adoption of the Con- 
stitution, was marked by comparative quietude in regard to the future of slavery. 
In the North, as we have seen, the institution died a natural death, but there 
was no disposition evinced in the Northern States to interfere with it in the 
South. The first great battle took place in 1820 over the so-called Missouri 
Compromise. Now, for the first time, the country was divided, sectionally and 
in a strictly political way, upon issues which involved the future policy of the 
United States as to the extension or restriction of slave territory. State after 
State had been admitted into the Union, but there had been an alternation of 
slave and free States, so that the political balance was not disturbed. Thus, 
Virginia was balanced by Kentucky, Tennessee by Ohio, Louisiana by Indiana, 
and Mississippi by Illinois. The last State admitted had been Alabama, of course 
as a slaveholding State. Now it was proposed to admit Missouri, and, to still 
maintain the equality of political power, it was contended that slavery should be 



6io THE STORY OF AMERICAN SLA VERY. 

prohibited within her borders. But the slave power had by this time acquired 
great strength, and was deeply impressed with the necessity of establishing itself 
in the vast territory west of the Mississippi. The Southern States would not 
tolerate for a moment the proposed prohibition of slavery in the new State of 
Missouri. On the other hand, the Middle and Eastern States were beginning 
to be aroused to the danger threatening public peace if slavery were to be 
allowed indefinite extension. They had believed that the Ordinance of 1 787, 
adopted simultaneously with the Constitution, and which forbade slavery to be 
established in the territory northwest of the Ohio, had settled this question 
definitely. A fierce debate was waged through two sessions of Congress, and 
in the end it was agreed to withdraw the prohibition of slavery in Missouri, but 
absolutely prohibit it forever in all the territory lying north of 36° 30' latitude. 
This was a compromise, satisfactory only because it seemed to dispose of the 
question of slavery in the territories once and forever. It was carried mainly by 
the great personal influence of Henry Clay. It did, indeed, dispose of slavery 
as a matter of national legislative discussion for thirty years. 

But this interval was distinctively the period of agitation. Anti-slavery 
sentiment of a mild type had long existed. The Quakers had, since Revolu- 
tionary times held anti-slavery doctrines, had released their own servants from 
bondage, and had disfellowshiped members who refused to concur in the sacri- 
fice. The very last public act of Benjamin Franklin was the framing of a memo- 
rial to Congress deprecating the existence of slavery in a free country. In New 
York the Manumission Society had been founded in 1 785, with John Jay and 
Alexander Hamilton, in turn, as its presidents. But all the writing and speak- 
ing was directed against slavery as an institution and in a general way, and with 
no tone of aggression. Gradual emancipation or colonization were the only 
remedies suggested. It was with the founding of the "Liberator" by William 
Lloyd Garrison, in 1831, that the era of aggressive abolitionism began. Garri- 
son and his society maintained that slavery was a sin against God and man ; that 
immediate emancipation was a duty ; that slave owners had no claim to compen- 
sation ; that all laws upholding slavery were, before God, null and void. Garri 
son exclaimed : " I am in earnest. I will not equivocate — I will not excuse — I 
will not retreat a single inch. And I will be heard." His paper bore conspicu- 
ously the motto " No union with slaveholders." The Abolitionists were, in 
numbers, a feeble band ; as a party they never acquired strength, nor were 
their tenets adopted strictly by any political party ; but they served the purpose 
of arousing the conscience of the nation. They were abused, vilified, mobbed, 
all but killed. Garrison was dragged through the streets of Boston with a rope 
around his neck — through those very streets which, in 1S54, had their shops 
closed and hung in black, with flags Union down and a huge cotifin suspended in 
mid-air, on the day when the fugitive slave, Anthony Burns, was marched through 



AGITATION AND AGITATORS. 



6ii 



them on his way back to his master, under a guard of nearly two thousand men. 
Mr. Garrison's society soon took the ground that the union of States with 
slavery retained was "an agreement with hell and a covenant with death," and 
openly advocated secession of the non-slaveholding States. On this issue the 
Abolitionists split into two branches, and those who threw off Garrison's lead 
maintained that there was power enough under the Constitution to do away with 
slavery. To the fierce invective and constant agitation of Garrison were, in 
time, added the splendid oratory of Wendell Phillips, the economic arguments 
of Horace Greeley, the wise statesmanship of Charles Sumner, the fervid writ- 




A COTTON FIELD IN GEORGIA. 



ings of Channing and Emerson, and the noble poetr^^ of Whittier. All these 
and others, in varied ways and from different points of view, joined in educating 
the public opinion of the North to see that the permanent existence of slavery 
was incompatible with that of a free Republic. 

In the South, meanwhile, the institution was intrenching itself more and 
more firmly. The invention of the cotton-gin and the beginning of the reign of 
Cotton as King made the great plantation system a seeming commercial neces- 
sity. From the deprecatory and half apologetic utterances of early Southern 
statesmen we come to Mr. Calhoun's declaration that slavery " now preserves 



6 1 2 THE STOR V OF AMERICAN SLA VER Y. 

in quiet and security more than six and a half million human beings, and that 
it could not be destroyed without destroying the peace and prosperity of nearly 
half the States in the Union." The Abolitionists were regarded in the South 
with the bitterest hatred. Attempts were even made to compel the Northern 
States to silence the anti-slavery orators, to prohibit the circulation through the 
mail of anti-slavery speeches, and to refuse a hearing in Congress to anti-slavery 
petitions. The influence of the South was still dominant in the North. Though 
the feeling against slavery spread, there co-existed with it the belief that an 
open quarrel with the South meant commercial ruin ; and the anti-slavery senti- 
ment was also neutralized by the nobler feeling that the Union must be pre- 
served at all hazards, and that there was no constitutional mode of interfering 
with the slave system. The annexation of Texas was a distinct gain to the 
slave power, and the Mexican war was undertaken, said John Ouincy Adams, in 
order that " the slaveholding power in the Government shall be secured and 
riveted." 

The actual condition of the negro over whom such a strife was being waged 
differed materially in different parts of the South, and under masters of different 
character, in the same locality. It had its side of cruelty, oppression, and 
atrocity ; it had also its side of kindness on the part of master and of devotion 
on the part of slave. Its dark side has been made familiar to readers by such 
books as " Uncle Tom's Cabin," as Dickens' " American Notes," and as Edmund 
Kirk's "Among the Pines ;" its brighter side has been charmingly depicted in 
the stories of Thomas Nelson Page, of Joel Chandler Harris, and of Harry 
Edwards. On the great cotton plantations of Mississippi and Alabama the 
slave was often overtaxed and harshly treated ; in the domestic life of Virginia, 
on the other hand, he was as a rule most kindly used, and often a relation of 
deep affection sprang up between him and his master. Of insurrections, such 
as those not uncommon in the West Indies, only one of any extent was ever 
planned in our slave territory — that of Nat Turner, in Southampton County, 
Virginia — and that was instantly suppressed. 

With this state of public feeling North and South, it was with increased 
bitterness and increased sectionalism that the subject of slavery in new States 
was again debated in the Congress of 1850. The Liberty Party, which held 
that slavery might be abolished under the Constitution, had been merged in the 
Free Soil Party, whose cardinal principle was, "To secure free soil to a free 
people" without interfering with slavery in existing States, but insisting on its 
exclusion from territory so far free. The proposed admission of California was 
not affected by the Missouri Compromise. Its .status as a future free or slave 
State was the turning point of the famous debates in the Senate of 1850, in 
which Webster, Calhoun, Douglas and Seward won fame — debates which have 
never been equaled in our history in eloquence and acerbity. It was in the 



THE FUGITIVE SLAVE LAW. 



613 



course of these debates that Mr. Seward, while denying that the Constitution 
recognized property in man, struck out his famous dictum, " There is a higher 
law than the Constitution." The end reached was a compromise which allowed 
California to settle for itself the question of slavery, forbade the slave trade in 
the District of Columbia, but enacted a strict fugitive slave law. To the 
Abolitionists this fugitive slave law, sustained in its most extreme measures by 
the courts in the famous — or as they called it, infamous — Dred Scott case, was 
as fuel to fire. They defied it in every possible way. The Underground Rail- 
way was the outcome of this defiance. By it a chain of secret stations was 




A NEGRO VILLAGE LM ALABAMA. 



established, from one to the other of which the slave was guided at nig^ht until 
at last he reached the Canada border. The most used of these routes in the 
East was from Baltimore to New York, thence north through New England ; 
that most employed in the West was from Cincinnati to Detroit. It has 
been estimated that not fewer than thirty thousand slaves were thus assisted 
to freedom. 

Soon the struggle was changed to another part of the Western territory, 
now beginning to grow so rapidly as to demand the forming of new States. 
The Kansas-Nebraska Bill introduced by Douglas was in effect the repeal of the 



6 14 THE STORY OF AMERICAN SLAVERY. 

Missouri Compromise in that it left the question as to whether slavery should be 
carried into the new territories to the decision of the settlers themselves. As a 
consequence immigration was directed by botli the anti-slavery and the pro- 
slavery parties to Kansas, each determined on obtaining a majority to control 
the form of the proposed State Constitution. Then began a series of acts of 
violence which almost amounted to civil war. " Bleeding Kansas " became a 
phrase in almost every one's mouth. Border ruffians swaggered at the polls 
and attempted to drive out the assisted emigrants sent to Kansas by the Abolition 
societies. The result of the election of the Legislature on its face made Kansas 
a slave State, but a great part of the people refused to accept this result ; and 
a convention was held at Topeka which resolved that Kansas should be free 
even if the laws formed by the Legislature should have to be "resisted to a 
bloody issue." 

Prominent among the armed supporters of free State ideas in Kansas was 
Captain John Brown, a man whose watchword was at all times Action. " Talk," 
he said, "is a national institution ; but it does no good for the slave." He 
believed that slavery could only be coped with by armed force. His theory was 
that the way to make free men of slaves was for the slaves themselves to resist 
any attempt to coerce them by their masters. He was undoubtedly a fanatic in 
that he did not stop to measure probabilities or to take account of the written 
law. His attempt at Harper's Ferry was without reasonable hope, and as the 
intended beginning of a great military movement was a ridiculous fiasco. But 
there was that about the man that none could call ridiculous. Rash and 
unreasoning as his action seemed, he was yet, even by his enemies, recognized 
as a man of unswerving conscience, of high ideals, of deep belief in the brother- 
hood of mankind. His offense against law and peace was cheerfully paid for 
by his death and that of others near and dear to him. Almost no one at that 
day could be found to applaud his plot, but the incident had an effect on 
the minds of the people altogether out of proportion to its intrinsic character. 
More and more as time went on he became recognized as a pro-martyr of 
a cause which could be achieved only by the most complete self-sacrifice of 
individuals. 

Events of vast importance to the future of the negro in America now 
hurried fast upon each other's footsteps — the final settlement of the Kansas 
dispute by its becoming a free State ; the forming and rapid growth of the 
Republican party ; the division of the Democratic party into Northern and 
Southern factions ; the election of Abraham Lincoln ; the secession of South 
Carolina, and, finally, the greatest civil war the world has known. Though that 
war would never have been waged were it not for the negro, and though his fate 
was inevitably involved in its result, it must be remembered that it was not 
undertaken on his account. Before the struggle began Mr. Lincoln said : " If 



WAR AND HOW IT EMANCIPATED THE SLAVE. 



615 



there be those who would not save the Union unless they could at the same 
time save slavery. I do not agree with them. If there be those who would not 
save the Union unless they could at the same time destroy slavery, I do not 
agree with them. My paramount object is to save the Union, and not either to 
destroy or to save slavery." And the Northern press emphasized over and over 
again the fact that this was "a white man's war." But the logic of events is 
inexorable. It seems amazing now that Union generals should have been 
puzzled as to the question whether they ought in duty to return runaway slaves 
to their masters. General Butler settled the controversy by one happy phrase 
when he called the fugitives " contraband of war." Soon it was deemed right 




to use these contrabands, to employ the new-coined word, as the South was 
using the negroes still in bondage, to aid in the non-fighting work of the army 
— on fortification, team driving, cooking, and so on. From this it was but a 
step, though a step not taken without much perturbation, to employ them 
as soldiers. At Vicksburg, at Fort Pillow, and in many another batde, the 
negro showed beyond dispute that he could fight for his liberty. No fiercer 
or braver charge was made in the war than that upon the parapet of 
Fort Wagner by Colonel Shaw's gallant colored regiment, the Massachusetts 
Fifty-fourth. 

In a thousand ways the negro figures in the history of the war. In its 



6i6 THE STORY OF AMERICAN SLA VERY. 

literature he everywhere stands out picturesquely. He sought the flag with the 
greatest avidity for freedom ; flocking in crowds, old men and young, women 
and children, sometimes with quaint odds and ends of personal belongings, 
often empty-handed, always enthusiastic and hopeful, almost always densely 
ignorant of the meaning of freedom and of self-support. But while the negro 
showed this avidity for liberty, his conduct toward his old masters was often 
generous, and almost never did he seize the opportunity to inflict vengeance for 
his past wrongs. The eloquent Southern orator and writer, Henry W. Grady, 
said : " History has no parallel to the faith kept by the negro in the South during 
the war. Often five hundred negroes to a single white man, and yet through 
these dusky throngs the women and children walked in safety and the 
unprotected homes rested in peace. . . A thousand torches would have 
disbanded every Southern army, but not one was lighted." 

It was with conditions, and only after great hesitation, that the final step of 
emancipating the slaves was taken by President Lincoln in September, 1862. 
The proclamation was distinctly a war measure, but its reception by the North 
and by the foreign powers and its immediate effect upon the contest were such 
that its expediency was at once recognized. Thereafter there was possible no 
question as to the personal freedom of the negro in the United States of 
America. With the Confederacy, slavery went down once and forever. In the 
so-called reconstruction period which followed, the negro suffered almost as 
much from the over-zeal of his political friends as from the prejudice of his old 
masters. A negro writer, who is a historian of his race, has declared that the 
Government gave the negro the statute book when he should have had the 
spelling book ; that it placed him in the legislature when he ought to have been 
in the school house, and that, so to speak, " the heels were put where the brains 
ought to have been." A quarter of a century and more has passed since that 
turbulent period began, and if the negro has become less prominent as a political 
factor, all the more for that reason has he been advancing steadily though slowly 
in the requisites of citizenship. He has learned that he must, by force of 
circumstances, turn his attention, for the time at least, rather to educational, in- 
dustrial, and material progress than to political ambition. And the record of 
his advance on these lines is promising and hopeful. In Mississippi alone, for 
instance, the negroes own one-fifth of the entire property in the State. In all, 
the negroes of the South to-day possess two hundred and fifty million dollars' 
worth of property. Everywhere throughout the South white men and negroes 
may be found working together. 

At the beginning of the war the negro population of the country was about 
four millions, to-day it is between seven and seven and a-half millions ; in 1880, 
fifteen-si.xteenths of the whole colored population belonged to the Southern 
States, and the census of 1 890 shows that tlie proportion has not greatly changed. 



THE FREE NEGRO. 617 

This ratio in itself shows how absurdly trifling in results have been all the move- 
ments toward colonization or emigration to Northern States. The negro 
emphatically belongs to the Southern States, and in them and by them his future 
must be determined. Another point decided conclusively by the census of 1890 
is seen in the refutation of an idea based, indeed, on the census of 1880, but 
due in its origin to the very faulty census of 1870. This idea was that the 
colored population had increased much more rapidly in proportion than the 
white population. The new census shows, on the contrary, that the whites in 
the Southern States increased during the last decade nearly twice as rapidly as 
the negroes, or, as the census bulletin puts it, in increase of population, "the 
colored race has not held its own against the white man in a region where the 
climate and conditions are, of all those which the country affords, the best suited 
to its development." 

The promise of the negro race to-day is not so much in the development 
of men of exceptional talent, such as Frederick Douglas or Senator Bruce, as 
in the general spread of intelligence and knowledge. The Southern States have 
very generally given the negro equal educational opportunities with the whites, 
while the eagerness of the race to learn is shown in the recently ascertained 
fact that while the colored population has increased only twenty-seven per cent, 
the enrollment in the colored schools has increased one hundred and thirty-seven 
per cent. Fifty industrial schools are crowded by the colored youth of the 
South. Institutions of higher education, like the Atlanta University, and 
Hampton Institute of Virginia, and Tuskegee College, are doing admirable work 
in turning out hundreds of negroes fitted to educate their own race. Within a 
year or two honors and scholarships have been taken by half a dozen colored 
young men at Harvard, at Cornell, at Phillips Academy and at other Northern 
schools and colleges of the highest rank. The fact that a young negro, Mr. 
Morgan, was in 1890 elected by his classmates at Harvard as the class orator 
has a special significance. Yet there is greater significance, as a negro news- 
paper man writes, in the fact that the equatorial telescope now used by the 
Lawrence University of Wisconsin was made entirely by colored pupils in the 
School of Mechanical Arts of Nashville, Tenn. In other words, the Afro- 
American is finding his place as an intelligent worker, a property owner, and 
an independent citizen, rather than as an agitator, a politician or a race advocate. 
In religion, superstition and effusive sentiment are giving way to stricter morality. 
In educational matters, ambition for the high-sounding and the abstract is giving 
place to practical and industrial acquirements. It will be many years before 
the character of the negro, for centuries dwarfed and distorted by oppression 
and ignorance, reaches its normal growth, but that the race is now at last upon 
the right path and is being guided by the true principles cannot be doubted. 

^6 



6i8 



THE STORY OF AMERICAN SLAVERY. 



Says one who has made an exceedingly thorough personal study of the subject 
in all the Southern States : " The evolution in the condition has kept pace with 
that of any other races, and I think has been even a little better. The same 
forces of evolution that have brought him to where he is now will bring him 
further. One thing is indisputable : the negro knows his destiny is in his own 
hands. He finds that his salvation is not through politics, but through indus- 
trial methods. 




STATUE OF WASHINGTON IN THE GROUNDS OF THE STATE HOUSE, RICHMOND. 




child to a woman. 



FRANCES E. WILLARD, 

THE ORQANIZEiR AND HEAD OK THE " W. C. T. U." 

ITH the latter years of this century a new power has 
made itself felt in the world, — the power of organized 
womanhood. Fifty years ago such a body as the 
Woman's Christian Temperance Union was not 
only unknown, but impossible ; and fifty years ago 
the woman who has done more than any other to 
bring it into being was a bright, healthy child of five 
years, living at Oberlin, Ohio, whither her father 
and mother had moved from Monroe County, New 
York, where she was born in September, 1839. In 
1846 there was another move westward, this time to 
Forest Home, near Janesville, Wisconsin. Here 
Miss Willard spent twelve years, in which she grew from a 
She had wise parents, who gave free rein to the romping, 
freedom-loving girl, and let her grow up "near to nature's heart." She could 
ride a horse or fight a prairie fire "just as well as a man." 

After twelve years of life on Wisconsin prairies, the Willard family moved 
to Evanston, on the shore of Lake Michigan, just north of Chicago. Here Miss 
Willard began her work as a teacher, which she pursued in .different institutions 
until 1870, when she was chosen president of Evanston College for Ladies. 
This place she filled until 1874, when she finally gave up teaching to enter 
upon a new and still larger work. 

In 1873 occurred in Ohio the memorable "Women's Crusade" against the 
rum shops. Bands of devoted women besieged the saloons for days and weeks 
together, entreating the saloon-keepers to cease selling liquor, praying and sing- 
ing hymns incessantly in bar-rooms or on the sidewalks, until the men who kept 
them agreed to close them up, and in many cases emptied barrels of liquor into 
the gutters. This movement at once arrested Miss Willard's attention. She 
saw in it the germ of a mighty power for good. She resigned her position as 
president of the college at Evanston, and threw all her energies into the anti- 
liquor movement. With her customary thoroughness she entered upon a sys- 

621 



622 FRANCES E. WILLARD. 

tematic study of the subject of intemperance and the sale of Hquor, and of the 
different measures which had been undertaken to abate this mighty evil. She 
sought the counsel of Neal Dow and other leaders in the temperance cause. She 
joined in the crusade against liquor-selling in Pittsburgh, kneeling in prayer on 
the sawdust -covered floors of the saloons, and leading the host in sinking 
"Jesus, Lover of My Soul," and "Rock of Ages," in strains which awed and 
melted the hearts of the multitude thronging the streets. The result of her 
work was a determination to combine in one mighty organization the many sep- 
arate bands of women temperance workers which had sprung up over the coun- 
try; and this was achieved in the autumn of 1874, in the organization at Cleve- 
land of that wonderful body, the National Woman's Christian Temperance 
Union. The resolution which was adopted at that meeting, written by Miss 
Willard herself beautifully e.xpresses the spirit in which they entered upon the 
work. It read as follows : — 

"Resolved, That, recognizing that our cause is and will be contested by mighty, determined, and 
relentless forces, we will, trusting in Him who is the Prince of Peace, meet argument with argu- 
ment, misjudgraent with patience, denunciation with kindness, and all our difficulties and dangers 
with prayer." 

From that time Miss Willard's life is the history of the Woman's Christian 
Temperance Union. Like the "handful of corn in the tops of the mountains," 
all over this and in other lands it has taken root and grown until the fruit does 
indeed " shake like Lebanon." In almost every corner of the United States is 
a subordinate organization of some sort, a local union, a children's band, a 
young woman's circle, or perhaps all of these. It has built the great "Tem- 
perance Temple," one of the largest of the immense business buildings in 
Chicago. It has organized a large publishing business, from whose busy 
presses temperance literature is constantly being circulated in all parts of the 
country. It has by its political power made and unmade governors, senators, 
and representatives ; and it has done much to bring the time when women shall 
take an equal share in the government of church and state. In all this work 
the head and guiding spirit has been Frances E. Willard. 

Overwork has of late somewhat impaired her health, and made travel and 
rest abroad necessary. But in whatever corner of the world she may dwell, 
there is always a warm corner kept for her in the many thousand hearts and 
homes that have been cheered and brightened by her work " for God and home 
and native land." 

Miss Willard's friend and co-worker, Hannah Whitall Smith (see page 623), 
says of her : " Miss Willard has been to me the embodiment of all that is lovely 
and good and womanly and strong and noble and tender in human nature. 
She has done more to enlarge our sympathies, widen our outlook, and develop 
our gifts, than any man or any other woman of our time." 



FAMOUS AMERICAN WOMEN. 



BY FRANCES E. WILLARD. 
President of the World's IV. C. T. U. 



This book of American biography would be incomplete without some 
account of what women have done and suffered in helping to make the great 
republic what it is. I am therefore glad once more to take up my pen to treat 

of this my favorite theme. 

There were two distinct early types 
of women, the Northern and the Southern. 
Both were patrician in their purity of ethical 
quality, but the latter more technically so 
in its environment. Individuality developed 
earlier in the North, because personal 
initiative was necessary, owing to financial 
needs. The Southern woman had a downier 
nest, and found it so soft and warm that 
she rested more than she worked. Her 
features were less distinctive than those 
of her Northern sister, but more soft ; her 
tones were deeper and more mellow, but 
had less of the clarion timbre of conscious 
power. The line of grace was more pro- 
nounced in the figure and movement of 
the Southerner — the line of power was 




HANNAH WHITALL SMITH. 



apparent in the expression and bearing of 
the woman of the North. Each was a noble type, the one more lovely, the 
other more achieving. 

As a matter of history, public schools, which were established in New 
England within 25 years after the landing of the Pilgrims, had no room for girls, 
and Harvard College, founded twenty years after the Massachusetts landing, 

623 



624 WOMAN IN AMERICA. 

was for young men, not for their sisters. Half a century passed before public 
schools were granted to the people. It was prophetic that Hartford, Connecticut, 
should witness the first of these — that beautiful city in which Emma Willard 
reached her early fame. The date in Hartford was 1771, only five years before 
the Revolution. In the South, the better class of girls never dreamed of going 
to the public school ; like the aristocracy of Great Britain, they were taught by 
the governess, a shadowy figure who had small Latin and less Greek — indeed, 
small everything, except a smattering of English, much manner, and unbounded 
deference. This describes the situation in early days ; but when Emma Willard 
sent out from her training school in Troy young and forceful women, combining 
Northern strength with Southern grace, they wrought marvels in the thought 
and development of the Southern woman in those semi-baronial homes which 
slave labor rendered possible, even on a new continent. 

The Dame-School was the source from which Northern girls imbibed the 
little that they knew up to the present century. Our highest authority on this 
subject is Miss Mary F. Eastman, who says that these schools were of an in- 
ferior order', in which women, often those who themselves could hardly more than 
read, would gather a few girls about them, teach them to " make their man- 
ners," according to the ancient phrase, drill the alphabet into their brains, and 
enough beyond that to enable them to spell out the Catechism, which every well- 
regulated girl was obliged to learn by heart. Charles Francis Adams says that 
during the first 1 50 years of our colonial history " the cultivation of the female 
mind was regarded with utter indifference," and Abis"ail Adams in one of her 
famous letters declares that " it was fashionable to ridicule female learning." 
These were the days when women given to scolding were condemned to sit in 
public with their tongues held in cleft sticks, or were thrice dipped from a duck- 
ing stool. Miss Eastman says, referring to this barbarism, " It would be better 
that their tongues had been tamed by instruction to becoming speech, or that 
they had been permitted to drink at the fountain of learning." It is significant 
that in Northampton, Massachusetts, as late as the year 1 788, and in an intelli- 
gent community, where Smith's College is now located, the village fathers voted 
"not to be at the expense for schooling girls." In 1792 the Selectmen of 
Newburyport decided that " during the summer months, when the boys have 
diminished, the Master shall receive girls for instruction in grammar and read- 
ing, after the dismission of the boys in the afternoon, for an hour and a half" 
The visitor to this beautiful and historic seaport is shown with pride the site on 
which stood the school-house to which it is believed women were first admitted 
on this continent to an education at public expense. That was just one 
hundred years ago. The same progressive town voted in 1803 to establish four 
girls' schools, the first on record, which were to be kept six months in the year, 
from six to eight o'clock in the morning and on Thursday afternoon, — for the 



CHURCH AND SCHOOLS. 625 

boys had the pick of the time as well as the training. We next find it re- 
corded that in 1789, when the Revolutionary War had been over for six years, 
the city of Boston, rising to the occasion, established three reading and writing 
schools, which were open all the year round to boys, and to girls from April to 
October. There were no free schools in that city for "that boy's sister" until 
this date. In Rhode Island girls were not admitted to the public schools till 
1828. But little by little the different gates were opened, until in about the 
first quarter of our century girls were permitted to attend the whole year 
through, the same as boys ; but it must be remembered that this was in New 
England, which has always led in everything pertaining to intellectual develop- 
ment. The more remote States followed at a greater distance. Now came the 
battle for the higher education — which was much more difficult. The whole 
woman question was here passed in review, and the conservative cast of mind, 
as was inevitable from its native limitation, declared that the family relation 
would be subverted and the new continent depopulated if women were per- 
mitted to follow their own sweet will in the development of the intellects with 
which, by some strange inconsistency of fate, they were endowed. Much as it 
is the fashion to decry the Church as the great conservative force, let it be 
gratefully remembered by women everywhere, that the first schools of higher 
education were denominational institutions, and resulted from the enlightened 
love of generous fathers, who, having girls of promise in their families, felt that 
they had no right to leave their mental cultivation unprovided for. Happily, 
competition among the different Churches developed along the line of multiply- 
ing these seminaries of higher education for girls, for no Church wished its 
daughters to attend a school founded by some other ! Perhaps this education of 
the future mothers of our nation is the best result to which we can refer in the 
everlasting battle among the broken fragments of the body of Christ. High 
schools for girls did not exist until about the middle of the present century. As 
in the lower grades, the girls came only at early hours, because it was a settled 
principle that they must not be in the same school with boys, and they must in 
nowise inconvenience these latent lords of creation. From the first, however, 
the girls have proved to be so eager for instruction that their fathers, pleased, 
perhaps, to see repetitions of themselves in the vigorous intellects of these little 
ones, have responded to their importunities by establishing separate high 
schools for their daughters. The first to do this was Newburyport again, in 
1842, and Salem>, Mass. (where once they hanged the witches), in 1845, but 
progressive Boston did not found a high school for girls until 1852 — almost two 
hundred years after she had established a Latin school for boys, and more than 
two hundred after the founding of Harvard College for young men. 

The practical outcome of high-school education in these latter years has 
been the State university, and women owe more to this last-named institution 



626 WOMAN IN AMERICA. 

than to any other single force, for their education, up to this time. By the 
inevitable processes of thought, the men who had admitted girls to every 
department of public school instruction could not close to them the doors of 
that highest school — the university. By parity of reasoning, when the uni- 
versity added professional schools, it would have been most illogical to deny to 
the young women, entrance to these ; hence the higher classes of occupation, 
all of which are taught in various State institutions, and later on professional 
schools for doctors, lawyers, civil engineers, etc., have been freely opened to 
young women at State expense. Collegiate training for women was more 
difficult to gain. The pioneer was Oberlin, founded in Ohio, in 1833 ; woman 
was welcomed here from the beginning. Mount Holyoke Seminai'y, in Massa- 
chusetts, was established in 1836, by the immortal Mary Lyon — that daughter 
of the people — who, by her unique method of domestic services performed 
■wholly by the students, enabled the farmer's daughter to win as good an 
intellectual training as Madam Emma Willard provided in Troy for the 
daughters of the rich. In 1852 Antioch College was founded in Ohio, and 
women were admitted to all of its advantages. In 1862 Cornell University was 
established on the same basis, until now there is not a college west of the 
AUeghanies the advantages of which are not equally offered to the sons and 
daughters of our people, while the Leland Stanford University, recently opened 
on the Pacific Coast, near San Francisco, and having an endowment of 
j^20,cxx>,ooo, is in all its departments free to women. The same is true of the 
great new Chicago University, founded by John D. Rockafeller ; the great 
Northwestern University, of the Methodist Church, at Evanston, in the suburbs 
of the city ; while the Annex of Harvard ; Barnard College, in connection with 
Columbia College, of New York city ; the newly acquired rights of women at 
Brown University, Providence, Rhode Island, and Middlebury College — that 
ancient and honorable institution in Vermont, — with the American University 
of the Methodists, founded by Bishop Hurst, in Washington, D. C, and Evelyn 
College, which is the Annex of Princeton, in New York — mark the latest open- 
ings for women in the fields of higher education — collegiate and professional. 
Vanderbilt, in the South, cannot long resist the oncoming tide, that each day 
cries more insistently, "Place aux dames!" and "The tools to those that can 
use them." 

In 1865 Matthew Vassar founded, in Poughkeepsie, New York, a college 
for women. This was a real college, and, with Smith, Wellesley, and Bryn 
Mawr, shows the high-water mark of woman's separate education in this country. 
Nobody questions that before another generation the colleges that have the 
annex will be themselves annexed, and co-education will universally prevail. 

There is another phase of the higher education of women which has 
exerted a vast influence on the public sentiment of the Republic. Nothing 



SELF-SUPPORT. 627 

shows the advance made in a single century from a more salient point of view, 
than the fact that from having been grudgingly admitted to the lowest grade of 
the public school, and obliged to attend at the unseemly hour of six o'clock in 
the morning, woman, when she had the opportunity, proved herself so worthy 
of it that to-day eighty-two per cent, of all the teachers in the public schools in 
the United States are ivomen. The normal schools of the forty-four States, with 
their admirable methods of the latest and most helpful kinds for the acquire- 
ment of thorough training as teachers, swarm with the girl of the period. 
Recently, when I addressed the Normal School near Chicago, under the care of 
that famous educator, Colonel Francis W. Parker, seventy-five fair damsels, in 
graceful reform dress, walked up the aisle to the platform, accompanied by a 
single specimen of the genus homo attired in black, and I laughingly said to 
myself, "Is he in mourning by reason of lonesomeness and lost opportunity, or 
does he serve as an exclamation point to mark the new order of things ? " 

Southern women have wakened to a new life since the war. Higher edu- 
cation and self-support are now accepted as a matter of course by all save the 
most prejudiced minds, while the whole cause of woman, in the large sense 
herein defined, is supported by the ablest brains among Southern men and 
women. The White Ribbon movement has been the largest influence thus far 
introduced into that sunny land, to reveal to the home-folk their privileges and 
powers in this Christian civilization. 

Women have been appointed as directors, jointly with men, in the Colum- 
bian Exposition of 1893, and those mighty "auxiliary" departments, which 
mean the convening of philanthropic, educational, religious, and other special- 
ties from every quarter of Christendom for great conventions throughout the 
World's Fair, means more than we thought possible at first, and especially to 
the bright women of the South. 

As a natural outcome of the mental development of women throughout 
the Republic, they have now the range of almost all forms of industry, and are 
practically debarred from none they care to follow. The recent census enu- 
merates over four thousand different branches of employment in which women 
are now engaged, and the consensus of opinion is, that as a class they do 
admirably well. It is no longer considered a token of refinement to live upon 
the toil of others, but women who support themselves have the hearty respect 
and good will of all sensible women and of all members of the other sex whose 
good will and respect are wofth desiring. As brain-power is the basis of suc- 
cess in every undertaking, whether it be baking potatoes or writing sonnets, the 
immense amplitude given to the activities of woman-kind is the greatest fact of 
the century. To translate this mass of brain from the dormant to the active 
stage means, not only to the individuals now living, but through the mighty 
forces of heredity to coming generations, more than the greatest mind can 



628 WOMAN IN AMERICA. 

possibly perceive. The expansion thus given to the total of brain momentum 
throughout the nation may be trusted to conduct us to such discoveries, inven- 
tions, philosophies, applications of religion, as the most adventurous have not 
yet dreamed, and will, we believe, be for the universal uplifting of the race in 
power, in purity, and peace. 

It is to be remembered that all these mighty opportunities have come to 
women largely by the permission of men. They might have formed industrial 
and other guilds and rigidly excluded women from membership. If men, as a 
class, had been imbued with the spirit manifested by that brilliant writer, Mr. 
Grant Allen (who deliberately declares that there is nothing that woman has 
ever done as well as man can do it, except to extend the census list), where 
would women have been in respect to the development of brain and hand ? 
Mr. Grant Allen remands them to that one occupation in which they have 
distinguished themselves, and says they were "told off" like so many 
soldiers from an army selected to conduct some difficult enterprise, 
and that, having been thus separated to a special work, they have not in 
the nature of the case a right to scatter elsewhere. But as he is the 
only man who has ever said this in public and in so many words, and as our 
brothers of the journalistic pen have impaled him without mercy on the point 
of that swift weapon, we may conclude that the common sense of universal 
manhood has reached the conclusion : Let any woman do whatever thing she 
can do well. Upon this basis all business colleges and schools for typewriting 
and shorthand are now open to women ; manual training and industrial schools 
admit them freely ; colleges and universities, professional schools and art classes, 
accord them every advantage ; the whole field of journalism is open to them, 
and but two citadels yet remain to be captured, — those of ecclesiastical and civil 
power. Sapping and mining are going on vigorously around these citadels, and 
many of their outposts have been already taken. Twenty-three States have 
already granted school suffrage ; Kansas has municipal, and Wyoming com- 
plete suffrage for women. In the younger denominations women stand 
equal with men in the pulpit as well as out of it, and the question of inducting 
them into every position in the great denominations is being actively discussed 
and often favorably commented upon by the great constituency of ministers, 
editors, and publicists. 

The place of woman in literature is striking. Here she has won the 
largest standing room. No publisher asks the question, " Did a woman furnish 
that manuscript?" but he pays according to its merit. The same is true in 
journalism. Clubs for women are springing up everywhere, philanthropic 
guilds are numerous, there are religious societies practically without number, 
and reform movements are more vigorously directed by women than by the 
most notable or most distinguished experts among men. 



IN THE PROFESSIONS. 629 

Perhaps no feature of this splendid evolution is more remarkable than the last, 
namely, the intellectual development of woman as a home-maker. The bright, 
well-disciplined intellects among society women have now found their exact niche, 
They are somewhat too conservative to take up the temperance reform or the 
suffrage ' movement, although we believe that almost without exception these 
great enterprises have their hearty sympathy, but in the department of woman 
as a housekeeper and home-maker they find a congenial field. They would 
help lift this profession from the plane of drudgery. They would so train the 
household workers, once called servants, that theirs shall be a veritable voca- 
tion. All that science and art can do to elevate the culinary department of the 
home, to improve its sanitary conditions, and to embellish its surroundings, 
these women are determined to see done. The number of new industries and 
the subdivisions or new avocations that will grow out of this movement are 
incalculable. We rejoice in it, for while we firmly believe in the old French 
motto, "Place aux dames!" and "The tools to those that can use them," we 
always think that the mother is the central figure of our civilization, and to be 
treated accordingly ; that the home-maker is the genius of what is most holy 
and happy in our lives. We believe that invention, science, education, and re- 
ligion should converge in systematic fashion upon the evolution of the home, 
which evolution is bound to come, and is rapidly keeping pace with develop- 
ments in all other lines of human uplift. 

While it pains a progressive woman to hear any man speak as if the home 
bounded the sphere of her sex, and while we believe the highest duty of all 
women is to help make the whole world home-like ; while we believe that woman 
will bless and brighten every place she enters, and that she will enter every 
place, we would sympathize with the possibilities of honorable employment and 
of high development to those who bring just as much talent, discipline, and de- 
votion to the building up of home as others do to the larger world outside. In 
making the transition from woman as a cipher outside of home, to the splendid 
civilization that welcomes her to every one of its activities, it was necessary for 
the " present distress " to emphasize out of their due proportion the importance 
of education, industrial avocations, philanthropic vocations, science, and art for 
women. But when the pendulum swings to its extreme limit, and Church and 
State are freely opened to her, we feel sure it will swing to the harmony of a 
real circuit described by the interests of home, and our brightest brains, most 
skillful hands, and deepest hearts shall give themselves to the beautiful amen- 
ities and sacred ministries of that institution which has been called, and not too 
often, " Our Heaven below." 

A book is now being written entitled " A Woman of the Nineteenth 
Century," and is to include one thousand names of American women. It is 
found entirely practicable to gather up so large a number of notable names 











IlJ^^- 


Tx^dkM^'* 




BL-J^^ 


k ^^^^^^^^^^1 


w 



Sl'SAN li. ANTHONY, THE GREAT AnVOCATE OK WOMAN bUtKAi.h. 
BORN 1S2O. 



WOMAN IN AMERICA. 631 

illustrative of the different forms of activity in which women are now engaged. 
This being true, it is a hopeless endeavor to characterize even the most repre- 
sentative women in an article like the present. To do so would but invite the 
criticism of making invidious distinctions. 

The political activities of women have been perhaps more criticised than 
any others. Naturally enough, perhaps, as politics is to-day the arena where 
men fight with ballots rather than with bayonets or bullets. But in England the 
Primrose Dames and the Women of the Liberal League are a mighty factor in 
working out the rights of the people on the one hand, and the preservation of 
aristocratic prerogative on the other. This country has yet had no political 
uprising of women to match that of the motherland, but the Prohibition party 
has for years had women as its truest allies, and in the People's party they take 
equal rank with men, while both declare for the ballot in the hand of woman as 
her rightful weapon. Conventions, committee meetings, newspaper organs, and 
the public platform all bear the impress to-day of the growing intelligence and 
disciplined zeal of women as partisans. This is but the beginning of a new 
movement, the consequences of which promise to be more vast than any we 
have yet attained in the mighty development of the multitudinous woman 
question. 

There was in the Declaration of Independence the percussive force of 
giant powder when we deliberately said, "All men are born free and equal, and 
have certain inalienable rights, and among these rights are life, liberty, and the 
pursuit of happiness." We then and there invoked that trinity of issues which 
are to-day involved in the mighty " Human Question," namely, the labor 
question, temperance question, and the woman question. Not until all these 
have been wrouo-ht out into statutes and constitutions will there be rest for 
the land. It is a blessed fact that woman cannot rise alone. From the first 
she has been at the bottom of the human pyramid ; she has the mother heart, 
and the stream cannot rise higher than its fountain. Whatever lifts and puts 
better conditions about her in all stages of her earthly life, does the same for 
every son she gives to the nation by daring to walk the Via Doloroso of Danger 
when she passes the sacred but terrible ordeal of motherhood. 

Well has the poet sung that " Men and women rise and fall together, 
dwarfed or god-like, bond or free." No woman worthy of the name forgets 
that she had a father and brother In her early home, and for their sake, as much 
as for mother's and sister's sake, all true women seek to help both men and 
women in the solution of the great problems of modern civilization. To be 
strong-minded was once thought a crime in woman, but upon strength of mind 
there is a premium now. The bread-winning weapon, eagerly sought and firmly 
held in the delicate but untrembling hand of woman, is the only sword she 
needs. We would make her thoroughly independent of marriage, that she 



632 



SPHERE OF WOMAN. 



still might clioose its old and sacred path from motives more complimentary to 
the man of her choice than that " He will be a good provider." We would 
educate her thoroughly, that she might be the comrade of her husband and her 
sons, for while religion and affection form two of the strands in the cable that 
binds human hearts together in the home, we believe that intellectual sympathy 
is that third bright strand which this glad age is weaving, and that no charm 
more holy or enduring survived the curse of Eden. We would endow her with 
power in Church and State, that 
these two hierarchies might belong 
to the many and not to the few, to 
the people, and not to priest and 
politician. We would make woman 
partner in the great world's activi- 
ties, that she might more greatly 
endow the children whose gifts 
depend so largely on her goodness, 
greatness, and grace. 

God made woman with her 
faculties, her traits, her way of 
looking at all great questions from 
the highest to the lowest, and he 
made her to be a helpmeet for 
man, and he made man to be a 
helpmeet for her ; he made them to 
stand in a republic, as I believe, 
bearing equally its magnificent 
burdens. The world needs the 
tender sweetness of the alto voice, 
the jubilant good-will of the soprano, 
in sermon as in psalm ; tenor and 
bass become monotonous at last, 




JULIA WARD HOWE, 
Author of Iht " Battle Hymn of the Republic' 



and the full diapason of power and inspiration is impossible except we listen to 
the full chorus of humanity. God hasten that great chorus, in church and state 
alike, with its deep-hearted love and its celestial hope ! 

Frances E. Willard. 



: 



HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. 




AND THE STORY OK AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

BY HAMILTON W. MABIE, LL.B., LIT. D., 

Edilor of the "Outlook," N. Y. 



HE author of "Evangeline" and "Hiawatha," and the 
many short poems which have become "household 
words " in so many homes, was born in a stately old man- 
sion in Portland, Maine, in 1807. He spent a most happy 
childhood in this lovely home, and at fifteen entered Bow- 
doin College, where he graduated in 1825. He was then 
offered a professorship in the college, with the privilege of 
spending some years in Europe, in study and preparation. 
After his return he vi^as married to Mary Storer Potter, a 
young lady of Portland, to whom he had long been attached, 
and entered upon the duties of his position. He was very popular with the 
students, and soon came to be quite a power in the University. He became a 
contributor to the North Atnerican Review, then the foremost literary period- 
ical of America, and began to acquire reputation as a writer. 

In 1835 Longfellow received the offer of a professorship in Harvard Uni- 
versity, which he accepted, with the stipulation that he should be allowed first to 
spend some time abroad in the further study of German and Scandinavian litera- 
ture. While in Amsterdam, his young wife died suddenly, and the bereaved 
husband turned for solace to intense work and study. Years afterward he 
embalmed her memory in the beautiful poem, " Footsteps of Angels : " — 

" With a slow and noiseless footstep 
Comes that messenger divine, 
Takes the vacant seat beside me, 
Lays her gentle hand in mine." 

In 1836 he returned to Cambridge and entered upon his duties at Harvard. 
Here he soon began to form those friendships which were so long a blessing 
and delight to him and to all of the circle, — Feltoii, Sumner, Hillard, Lowell, 
Agassiz, Hawthorne, Fields, and others. With Sumner especially he became 

63.S 



636 HENRY IV. LONGFELLOW. 

very intimate. Whenever Sumner was in the neighborhood he always spent 
Sunday with his friend, and many are the records in his journal of " Sumner to 
dine," " Sumner to tea," or to pass the night, and always some note of the 
absorbing talk which reached into the midnight hours. 

In 1843 Longfellow married Miss Frances Appleton, whom he had met in 
Europe, and who figures in the pages of " Hyperion." The famous old 
"Craigie mansion," which had been Washington's headquarters, was purchased, 
and until the poet's death remained his home. A hedge of lilacs led to the 
door, and grand old elms spread their branches over the house. Here his chil- 
dren were born ; and here, in 1 861, he met the great sorrow from which he never 
entirely recovered, — the tragic death of his wife. She was sealing some papers 
of the children's curls, in the library, when she trod upon a match, which set fire 
to her clothing, causing injuries from which she died. She was buried upon the 
anniversary of her marriage, crowned with a wreath of orange blossoms. Most 
pathetic are the passages in Longfellow's journal in after years, telling of his 
desolation. For a long time he could speak to no one of his grief ; only after 
months had passed did he even allude to it in a letter to his brother: "And 
now, of what we both are thinking I can write no word. God's will be done." 
In his journal he writes: "Another walk in the pines, in the bright morning 
sunshine. Everything without full of loveliness ; but within me the hunger, the 
famine of the heart." At Christmas : " How inexpressibly sad are all holidays ! 
But the dear little girls had their Christmas-tree last night, and an unseen 
presence blessed the scene !" 

It was long before he could take up work again ; but at last he began his 
translation of Dante, and in this absorbing occupation found some alleviation 
of his sorrow. His best comforters, however, were the little group of close 
friends who met often to criticise the work as it proceeded, and whose society 
was much enjoyed. But soon these friends began to fall by the wayside, — first 
Felton, then Hawthorne and Agassiz, and last his beloved friend Sumner, to 
whom, in the exquisite poem, "Three Friends of Mine," he thus bids farewell:— 

" Good-night ! good-night ! as we so oft have said 
Beneath this roof at midnight, in the days 
That are no more, and shall no more return. 
Thou hast hut taken thy lamp and gone to bed ; 
I stay a little longer, as one stays 
To cover up the embers that still burn." 

The last years of Longfellow's life passed 'serenely at his home in Cam- 
bridge, cheered by tokens of the ever-increasing love and honor which came to 
him from all parts of the world. His pen was not idle ; and some of his finest 
poems are those written in these closing years. In 1882, at the age of seventy- 
five, he died, and was laid to rest in the beautiful cemetery of Mount Auburn, 




THE STORY OK AMERICAN LITERATURE, 

BY HAMILTON W. MABIE, LL.E., Lit. D. 

SYSTEMATIC description of American literature is impossible. 
Our best books cannot be marshaled into one phalanx. They 
cannot be grouped wholly by time, by place, or by class dis- 
tinctions. They are the writings of widely different times and 
of widely different places, if not of different civilizations. Our 
colonial literature bears no resemblance to that which followed 
the Revolution, and our present literature grows increasingly dif- 
ferent from either. The literature of New England and that of 
California have little in common, while the literature of the South is in no sense 
akin to that of the North. Letters have always played a subordinate part in 
American life, and have been under the influence, not of one impulse, but of 
many antagonistic impulses. Our people are a heterogeneous people, and 
their books constitute a heterogeneous literature. 

In the times of the colonies, men were too busy in nation-building to 
acquire the arts of book-making. A few adventurers like the brave gasconader, 
John Smith, wrote to the Old Country, in a style forcible, but awkward and fre- 
quently incorrect, graphic and highly imaginative descriptions of the New ; a few 
painstaking diarists detailed, with a minuteness which can now please only the 
antiquarian, the daily vicissitudes of the colonists ; and, more important than 
either, a few earnest orators instilled a high-minded patriotism into their coun- 
trymen's hearts with an eloquence more remarkable for its genuineness of 
conviction and ardency of feeling than for its skill in argument or mastery of 
language. But before the Declaration of Independence America could boast 
only three men whose writings, in any way, deserve the name of literature. 
There was John Woolman, the gentle-hearted Quaker, like Izaak Walton, a 
tailor, and like him, also, a lover of man, animal, and plant. Although he was 
an irrepressible reformer, his writings have none of the pride of opinion and self- 
righteousness which are the besetting sins of reformers. Catholic, humble, 
receptive, his words are a benediction. Such Charles Lamb, the purest and 
manliest of modern English writers, found them, and as such he praised them. 
Of a very different stamp was "one Mr. Wordly-Wiseman " (as one critic has 
'7 637 



G38 



THE STORY OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 



well called him) Benjamin Franklin. Well known abroad as a statesman, and 
still better as a scientist of the first rank, he was equally well known at home 
for his proverbial wisdom. He had a gift for putting much prudence into few 
words. His low ideals and the self-complacence which appear in his autobio- 
graphy do him little credit, but as a counselor in matters of expediency he was 
much needed by his excitable, extravagant, and often over-sanguine country- 
men. As great as either, though his writings are less enduring, was the great 

Calvinist divine, Jonathan Edwards. His doctrine 
has been largely discarded since his day, but there 
was an imaginativeness and clearness in depicting 
it, a purity of life and character behind it, and a 
devout mysticism in it, which make it elevating 
reading to-day. It is a significant fact that neither of 
these three men, neither the abolitionist, the scien- 
tist, nor the preacher, was primarily a writer. The 
greatest writers of America have always been some- 
thing more than writers. Irving and Motley were 

diplomats, Bryant was a 
journalist. Holmes a phy- 
sician, and Lowell had 
something of the states- 
man in him. All of them 
found outlets for their 
energies beyond their 
books. This circumstance 
has given to them a 
breadth of view, a sense 
of proportion, and a manly 
reserve which wins the re- 
spect of the reader and 
instills in him self-respect, 
but it has also deprived 
them of that intensity, that 
individuality, that surcharge of meaning and emotion which makes contemporary 
English books seem at times like the scrolls of prophets. 

It was not until after the Revolution that American literature began to take 
on distinctive national traits. Even then they came gradually. In our modes of 
thought and expression, we grew away rather than broke away from England. 
Georn-e Washington was more like an Entdi.shman than like a modern Yankee, 
and Washington Irving, the earliest representative author of the century, was 
quite as truly a countryman of Addison, Steele, and Goldsmith as he was of the 




IIAU llluU.-.Li LIK IlilLACL. 



POST-REVOLUTION LITERATURE. 639 

native American farmer or the Dutch knickerbocker. In his essays the spirit 
of the eighteenth century revived. He seemed to represent an old England 
rather than a young America. He formed his style after the models of Queen 
Anne's day and improved upon them in flexibility. Foreign readers were 
surprised to find grace and melody in an American book, and yet little has 
been written in the English language more graceful and melodious, more 
delicate in its humor, more artistic in its moods and pictures, than the " Legend 
of Sleepy Hollow." Since its day, grace has become the characteristic virtue 
of American essays. It was, however, in the rollicking extravaganza of his 
" Diedrich Knickerbocker's History of New York " that Irving's admirers 
thought they detected the new nation's peculiar gift to letters. Born in New 
York city, Irving had from boyhood roamed at will through its woody environs. 
Though no antiquarian, he was familiar with those details of its local history 
which could be gleaned only from the traditions of the country-folk. With 
such unconscious training for it, he wrote his wholesome and hearty burlesque 
of the phlegmatic old Dutch ancestry of the town. There has been much 
American extravaganza since his day, but none of it, unless it be Mr. 
Stockton's fantastic tales, deserves the name of literature. Quite as American 
as either his gracefulness or his occasionally extravagant spirits was the poetic 
idealism which makes of his life of Goldsmith at once a delightful idyl and a 
delicate interpretation of character. He found a place for the imagination in 
biography, the aim of which, it must be remembered, is primarily to depict 
character, not to narrate vicissitudes. By his very idealizing he gave his readers 
a new insight into Goldsmith's heart. Though it contains some pure fiction, his 
volume has in it much poetic truth. It must be acknowledged, however, that 
Irving had no such power of impressing his own personality on his reader as 
some of even the o-entlest of English writers have had. He was lacking in 
originality and personal force. But he was pre-eminently a gentleman. 
Abroad, his courtesy of manner, his kindness of heart, his thorough genuineness 
and simplicity of life made him even more welcome than his books, and his 
books were welcome everywhere. The reputation of American letters was 
soundly established abroad when the great publisher, Murray, offered him fifteen 
thousand dollars for the privilege of issuing one of his productions in England, 
and Campbell, Jeffrey — the English critic of the day, — Moore, and Scott were 
counted among his friends. The appointment of Irving as our representative 
at the Court of Madrid proved later a precedent for appointing such scholars as 
Motley, Bancroft, and Lowell as foreign Ministers. 

There was no appearance of extravaganza in any of Irving's literary con- 
temporaries in New York. Except in the "Culprit Fay" of Joseph Rodman 
Drake, there was no delicate and fanciful idealism. But all who versified, 
versified with polish. Not always flexible, seldom spirited, never very original. 



6^Q THE STORY OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 

thev were unexceptionably refined. They sedulously imitated classical stand- 
ards Chaste diction, soundness of feeling, and manly reserve combmed to 
make some of Fitz-Greene Halleck's poems perfect of the.r kmd. His '' Marco 
Bozzaris" has deservedly come down to our day, though only as a school-boy 
classic Even the fop of American letters, shallow, frivolous, clever W illis, 
always wrote smoothly and with an air of good breeding. The greatest repre- 
sentative of this class of poets, however, was William Cullen Bryant. He was 
born in Massachusetts, but removed to New York in i825,when twenty-eight 
years of ao-e, and a year later became the editor of the New \ork Evcmng 




Post. His vocabulary was limited ; his poetry was frigid. To be stirred by 
it is. in the words of Lowell, "like being stirred up by the very North Fole. ■ 
It had little capacity for growth, and was at its best before the poet was out o 
his teens. But it had great virtues. Written in classic English, imbued with 
creat dignity of thought and feeling, pervaded with what Wordsworth has 
called the "religion of 'the woods "-the devout and solemn reverence for the 
invisible powers of nature-its manly reserve and repose elevated not only his 
countrymen's ideals of literary excellence, but their ideals of life as well. 
While he lived, New York city, which usually values only business abilities, 

♦ James Russell Lowell, " Fable for Critics." 



RECENT LITERATURE. 641 

respected his three vocations — that of the poet, that of the conscientious and 
constructive journaHst, and that of the public man who never held office. This 
last vocation has been a characteristic, if not a peculiarity, of our political life. 

Although Bryant contributed no such fund of thought to American litera- 
ture as did his New England contemporaries, of whom we mean to speak later, 
his work may be taken as a type of the epoch between the Revolution and the 
Civil War. But since his prime our writers have come to a parting of the ways. 
They can no longer be at once publicists and emulators of the English classics. 
The spirit of democracy, the influence of the masses, is now universally felt, even 
though not universally welcomed. It is dividing our modern writers into two 
classes, the litterateurs, who enter their studies as a refuge from its noise and 
self-confident intolerance, and the popular sympathizers, who enter their studies 
as a vantage-ground from which they may further popular aims and proclaim 
popular aspirations. The iconoclastic, self-assertive, sanguine characteristics of 
the masses appear, for instance, in the disordered rhythmic utterances of Walt 
Whitman. The strength of his lines is their freedom ; their weakness is their 
license. Their author is virile, but not always rational. Too often he opens his 
eyes wide with amazement at mere matters of quantity and magnitude. He makes 
extravagant claims for his extravagant muse. He does not appreciate delicate 
effects and nice distinctions of thought. He has something of mob violence 
about him, but also much mob power and vehemence. He is the pioneer and 
extreme of his class, but certain of his traits appear, scattered and incidental, 
in the work of some of our recent novelists and critics. Mr. Howells' novels, for 
instance, though they are often delicate and urbane and always conscientious and 
humanitarian, are occasionally marred by a certain aggressiveness of manner, at 
times approaching swagger, and by crude treatment of the literary lientage of 
the past. The present generation has a great conceit of its own powers, and 
that conceit Mr. Howells does much to cultivate. It is far too ignorant of the 
heart thoughts of the past, and Mr. Howells has done much to make that 
ignorance complacent. But among the cultured he is a strenuous proselyter 
for popular thought, and deserves to be counted a tribune of the people. 

Over against Mr. Howells must be set the preeminent litterateur of our 
times, Mr. Henry James. The principal characters of his novels are Anglicized 
Americans of leisure ; his principal scenes are European. He exercises in his 
readers those scholastic qualities of mind to which the great mass of his readers 
are supremely indifferent. Both Mr. Howells and Mr. James, however, have 
one important characteristic in common. They believe that fiction should vig- 
orously reproduce and dissect the ordinary phenomena. They would use neither 
Shakespeare's dramatic power of compressing some great truth of daily life into 
little compass, nor Hawthorne's power of gaining insight into the human heart 
through the use of the supernatural. They construct their novels according to 



642 



THE STORY OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 



an earnest, scientific theory, and so occasionally pain and perplex the reader 
with problems for which they offer no solution. They are attempting to accli- 
matize in American letters foreign methods ; already they have not a few disci- 
ples, but whether they will finally succeed or not is still an open question. 

Superior to both Mr. Howells and Mr. James in versatility, in creative 
power, in catholicity of sympathy, and in insight into the basal principles of art 
and of human nature is the novelist, Mr. F. Marion Crawford, though he is their 
inferior in conscientiousness of purpose, in evenness of execution, and in deli- 
cacy of expression. Mr. Crawford is cosmopolitan. There is hardly a country 
of importance that has not furnished him with a scene for a novel, and of every 
country he gives a view from within. It is the secret, however, both of Mr. 

Crawford's power and of his limitations 
that he is unique and stands outside the 
line of our literary development. He is 
in no sense a typical American novelist. 
Neither the democratic movement nor the 
aristocratic reaction measurably affects him. 
A class even more free from the influence 
of either current survives in such writers 
as "Ike Marvel," Charles Dudley Warner, 
and George William Curtis, who belong 
to an older school of American essayists 
and have the courtly graces of Irving with 
the practical interests of Steele and Addi- 
son. Roughly speaking, however, Ameri- 
can literature may be divided into three 
periods, the colonial, the classic, and the 
modern ; and this last period is marked by 
two contradictor}^ forces, aggressive democ- 
racy on the one hand and the appearance of caste-spirit on the other. 

Thus far we have treated chiefly of the literature of New York, for it is the 
least provincial, and therefore, in a sense, the most representative of the nation 
at large. The so-called Empire State, however, has played but a small part in 
American letters as compared with New England. Our greatest novelist, 
Hawthorne ; our greatest orator, Webster, and our greatest essayists, historians, 
and poets, are all New Englanders. The literature of Massachusetts and its 
adjacent States has a flavor of its own. It is always provincial, often narrow, 
occasionally fanatical, occasionally patronizing, but its voice is always the voice 
of conscience. It is preeminently the literature of the Puritan. Its Webster 
and its Wendell Phillips appeal to the sense of justice in their hearers and to 
that strenuous desire to maintain their individual responsibilities which is the 




R. WALDO EMERSON. 



WHITTIER— LOWELL. 643 

New Englander's idea of liberty. Its Prescott and Motley trace not the 
material, but the moral progress of the peoples whose development they 
chronicle. Its Hawthorne dramatizes the deepest problem of the conscience. 
The themes of its Emerson are always of natural religion. Its Longfellow, 
jL,owell, and Whittier look almost exclusively on the moral aspects of even litera- 
ture and romance. There is "no art for art's sake" in Massachusetts. We 
can never " escape from the diocese of a strict conscience." No book furnishes 
mere amusement or recreation. The sense of duty sometimes inspires the New 
Englander with eloquence, sometimes elicits the beauties of mystical imagina- 
tion sometimes presents itself in a play of wit, as in the Biglow Papers of 
James Russell Lowell, sometimes is made almost winsome, as in the poems of 
Longfellow, but it is never totally forgotten. 

New Englander of New Englanders is the Quaker poet of Massachusetts, 
John Greenleaf Whittier. Although not a Puritan, he is the most typical of 
the New England poets. His early life was that of a farmer's boy, and his 
poems are full of farm scenes and homestead Incidents. His " Snow Bound " 
pictures the cheer within and the cold without of a New England winter. He 
makes graphic the sturdy qualities of the old New England settlers. The 
reminiscences of his early days, picturing, as they do, a stalwart human nature, 
confirm the conscience of his readers against present temptations. His rhymes 
are often faulty, his metre sometimes rough, his spirit too surcharged with local 
feeling to be called national, his verse falls just short of inspiration, but what 
he has added to the moral worth of American letters is Invaluable. He has 
given to American poetry a dignity of its own — the dignity of unaffected but 
undaunted manhood. A poet of conscience, courage, and fervor is sure to 
do earnest work in the world, and Whittier was among the first to throw himself 
into the anti-slavery cause. His anti-slavery poems, Quaker though he Is, ring 
with a martial vigor. He has never made any peace with sin. Yet with all 
his warmth of temperament, often waxing hot with indignation, he has also 
that benignity, that gentleness, that purity of motive, that sense of peace which 
belong to the disciples of the " Society of Friends." He Is the representa- 
tive poet of his fellow Christians as well as of his State. His poems breathe 
the religious spirit. 

The anti-slavery cause had an advocate of a very different temperament, 
but quite as earnest and quite as poetic. In James Russell Lowell. It was the 
love of letters, not the love of the muse, which first started him on his literary career. 
He was In his early tastes primarily a critic. To careless readers his earliest 
poems seemed the work of a dainty and graceful amateur, and gave no promise 
of his future powers. His gift of criticism, his love of verbal by-play, his enjoy- 
ment and mastery of the lighter veins In literature he did not lose as he grew 
older, and showed his ability as well to encounter the dangers and responsibilities 



644 



THE STORY OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 



of active American citizenship and energetic public life. He was the most 
scholarly and most original of American critics to the end. Familiar with all the 
literatures of Europe, ancient and modern, at home in all the by-paths of English 
letters, he was yet no pedant and no traditionalist. He seemed to enter as an 
equal the Elysium of the poets. He was so keen and appreciative an observer 
of every aspect of nature that Charles Darwin said that he was born to be a 
naturalist. He was so alive to the world of to-day, that another friend early 
prophesied of him that "he would never dally with his muse when he could 
invite her aid in the cause of the oppressed and suffering." His literary essays 
revivified whatever they touched upon, because they themselves were vital with 
the modern spirit. His earnestness never prevented him from enjoying the 

quaint charms of the past. He would not 
have been so great a critic, however, had 
he not been much more than a critic. 
Even though his powers of execution were 
not equal to his powers of conception, he 
was a genuine poet. " He has the eye 
and mind of a poet," says one critic, "but 
wants the plastic touch which turns to 
shape the forms of things unknown." In 
his verse there was much poetry, though it 
was often in the roucjh. He was some- 
times careless. He was sometimes so 
clever as to seem forced, and he was 
sometimes forced without being at all 
clever. But his "Commemoration Ode," 
his "Cathedral," and his "Vision of Sir 
Launfal," not to mention many minor 
poems, are full of poetic beauty and strong 
It was the shame of slaver)', however, that kindled his 
It was characteristic of his Yankee blood that he used not 




WALT. WHITMAN. 



with poetic truth, 
powers into flame 

mere argument as his weapon, but wit and conscience fused by his hot indigna- 
tion into a blade as keen as Damascus steel. His " Biglow Papers" are the 
keenest, the most racial, the most national of all American satires. The first of 
them appeared in 1846. In its Yankee hero, concealing not one drop of his 
Yankee blood, abating not one jot of his Yankee pride or Yankee manners, and 
softening by not one touch his Yankee wit, appeared a new figure in American 
life. It was a figure around which the Puritan elements of the community could 
rally. Lowell had awakened the dormant conscience of the nation. He fiercely 
ridiculed the hypocrisies and glossed-over selfishness of the slave-power and the 
still more contemptible cowardice of tlie silent and the "prudent" in the North. 



LONGFELLOW. 645 

He fairly defied ridicule in return, for what the drawl and dialect of his hero could 
not make ridiculous nothing could make ridiculous. To-day its wit still retains 
its freshness, and its satire of pretentiousness, demagogy, and false standards 
of honor in American politics has unfortunately not lost its seasonableness. His 
"Fable for Critics," a running comment of clever, good-natured, unfinished 
epigrams on his literary contemporaries, showed Lowell to be a wit, but his 
" Biglow Papers " showed him to be a genius and not a little of a statesman. 
In the words of George William Curtis, literature was Lowell's pursuit, but 
patriotism was his passion. He was the more patriotic that he never fought 
over old battles. He was too busy fighting new ones for that. Sent as our 
Minister to England, he represented us abroad courteously but unswervingly, 
nor concealed for a moment his faith in the republican constitution and 
democratic principles of his native country. If occasionally a democratic self- 
assertiveness mars the general dignity of his writings, it marks him as the more 
typically a modern American. No other writer represents so many and so 
varied phases of American life as does this wit, gentleman, publicist, critic, 
scholar, and poet. 

LONGFELLOW. 

More representative of American poetry, though not of American life, than 
Lowell, and more national than Whittier, and more popular than either, is our 
household poet, Longfellow. Originality of thought has not been a notable 
characteristic of American poetry, and Longfellow was not markedly original. 
But what he lacked in originality he supplied with scholarship. He was versed in 
both the Norse and the Romance languages and literatures. His mind was 
stored with poetic traditions. He popularized the literary heritage of Europe. 
Clearness of thought, precise perception, transparent expression, that definiteness 
and accuracy which give force, have not been notable characteristics of Amer- 
ican poetry, and Longfellow often wrote vaguely because he saw vaguely. At 
times he lacked definite meaning, though the sense of the hearers is dulled to 
the loss by the pleasant sound of his verse. But his words are always gracious, 
gentle, manly, unsophisticated, melodious, and full of catholicity and content- 
ment. They are written to comfort the sorrowing, to give courage to the toil- 
ing, or to add happiness to the youthful. The moods which he evolves from his 
readers are tranquil, innocent, reverent, purifying. American readers, living as 
they do in the stress of competition, with little in their lives to give rest to their 
eyes or satisfaction to their aesthetic nature, turn to poetry not so much for 
truths as for beauty. Since life furnishes them with vigor, but with little that is 
delicate or graceful, they treasure most in poetry, ease, dignity, simplicity, 
chasteness of diction, the quiet flow of sound on sound and mood on 
mood. Such qualities they find in this scholarly laureate of the people. Though 
Longfellow is the favorite poet of young girlhood, womanhood and the home, 



646 



THE STORY OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 



there is no sentimentality and no melancholy in his personality. His pastorals 
arc full of picturesque figures of speech, and are imbued with a love of nature 
and a genial love of man. The poet has done much to create among his coun- 
trymen a love of European literature and to instill the beginnings of what may 
prove a mellowing culture, while, in his Hiawatha and Evangeline, he has given 
to the world two classics, distinctively American. 

There is a certain barrenness to the eye in plain American life, which we 
lose sight of when enjoying the scholarship and poetic imaginations of Long 
fellow. The same sense of barrenness, his friend and contemporary, Ralph 
Waldo Emerson, the "philosopher of Concord," relieves in a characteristically 
different way. He gratifies and char/ns his readers with the beauties of an 

idealistic, vague and pantheistic philo- 
sophy, surcharged with his own poetic and 
imaginative individuality. 




His idealism 
was often curiously inappropriate to his 
circumstances and surroundings. There 
was an impervious self-complacence in his 



writings which gave to them that gravity 
and that appearance of wisdom and author- 
ity which are characteristic of the Oriental 
seer. He was sometimes superficial, but 
nijver flippant. He never argued; he 
never even unfolded truths ; he formu- 
hited and declared ex catJicdra dogmas, 
and gathered together, without sequence 
or system, a number of apposite apoth- 
egms in a single theme. In common with 
Longfellow, he was often led to say what 
sounded well and meant little, but unlike 
Longfellow he was seldom commonplace at once in manner and matter. 
Although no writer is in reality more provincial than Emerson, no writer 
has such a semblance of superiority to all prejudices of race, nation, religion 
and home training as he. But if there was much that was factitious in Emer- 
son, there was also much that was genuine. He had at times an illuminating 
insight into the heart. His essays are elevating and suggestive. He was 
gifted with great powers of imagination. His seventy had its source in his inner- 
most character, and was more effectual against the storms of life than was the 
stoicism of the Romans, or the light-headedness of the Greeks. He was so free 
from all worldliness in motives or in tastes that he seemed immaculate. He had 
that courage in his faiths which only purity can give. He lived as in another 
world. If not quite the seer he purports to be, he was unquestionably a genius 



HAWTHORNE— MINOR NOVELISTS. 647 

But far greater in genius than the ideahst Emerson was the mystic and 
recluse, Nathaniel Hawthorne. His actual life was of the simplest. He was 
born in quaint Salem, Massachusetts, in 1804; he graduated from Bowdoin 
College, held in the course of his career two political offices, shunned publicity 
and wrote novels which met at the time with no remarkable sale. But from this 
simple career came the weirdest, most imaginative and most profound tales in 
American, if not in all Anglo-Saxon literature. His novels are essentially 
Puritan. Their scenes, their men and women, their weird traditions, their 
sombre creeds are unmistakably native to New England, though to a New 
England under the spell of the supernatural. In his own neighborhood, he 
found enough to feed his love of antiquity and of the legendary. His novels 
imbue the reader with a reverential awe for the Puritan fathers. No cavalier in 
Scott's novels ever seemed more romantic than do the stern and gloomy 
Calvinists of the " Scarlet Letter " and the " House of Seven Gables." Tales 
of witchcraft, of ill-starred lovers, of hereditary taints, of sin and its awful 
consequences, fascinated Hawthorne, and under his artistry became often 
fantastic, occasionally morbid, but always impressive. Never avoiding 
provincialism, he was always something more than provincial, for his themes 
dealt with human problems of universal significance. Unlike most mystics 
his style was transparently clear and exceedingly graceful. In those delicate, 
varied and impalpable but permanent effects which are gained by a happy 
arrangement of words in their sentences, no modern writer surpasses him, while 
no American writer equals him in that unerring directness and unswerving 
force which come from the exact use of words. To the rhetorician, his style is 
a study ; to the lay reader a delight that eludes analysis. There is also much 
humor and satire in Hawthorne, so delicate as to escape the observation of the 
careless and the obtuse. 

MINOR NOVELISTS. 

That the love of mystery, which found its perfect expansion in Hawthorne, 
was something of a national art, not merely a personal trait, is evident after 
reading the crude, but effective and highly original tales of our first American 
novelist, Charles Brockden Brown, who wrote impossible but impassioned 
stories of the supernatural and pseudo-supernatural. Edgar Allan Poe, a much 
better known writer of the same school, delighted in working out the horrible 
fancies of his brain in graphic and often artistic forms. His tales suffer, how- 
ever, from their total lack of moral substance. It is a significant fact, testifying, 
possibly to the sense of freedom and therefore the contentment which our national 
writers feel, that Poe was the only American author of any prominence to wreck 
his happiness and his character from sheer perversity and love of extravagance. 
He was the only one in this country to fling himself as did Marlowe, Byron, and 
many others in England, so willfully against the conventional standards of his 



648 



THE STORY OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 



environment as to destroy himself. His plots are so sensational and his dra- 
matic efforts so bold and unnatural that we seldom give their author sufficient 
credit for his polished and careful workmanship. Though there was a certain 
flashiness in his art which cheapens it, he was both an artist and a genius. 
"There comes Poe," says Lowell, in his " Fable for Critics," 

" With his raven, like Barnaby Rudge, 
Three-fifths of him genius, and two-fifths sheer fudge." 

A romancist of a very different type was James Fenimore Cooper, some- 
times diffuse and sometimes stilted, but more frequently an exciting narrator of 
Indian tales and pioneer adventures. The power of his stories is due not to any 

noticeable gifts of style or to any 
remarkable originality or profundity 
of thought, but to the wild prairie 
life or as wild sea life which they 
minutely depict, and to the roman- 
tic t)'pes of Indian, trapper and 
sailor, which they have created. 
They are written in an honest, 
hearty and patriotic spirit, and the 
"Spy," the "Pilot," and the 
" Leather-Stocking Tales " are still 
the delight of boys. Manly tales 
of pure adventure are rare in 
American literature. Our romance 
is usually didactic, sentimental, 
supernatural or retrospective. Di- 
dactic romance has attained its best 
expression and gained the greatest 
results in the " Uncle Tom's Cabin," 
of Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe — a tale full of dramatic situations, written with 
Yankee directness and Puritan sympathy for the oppressed, and by its very bias 
and idealism of invaluable service to the anti-Slavery cause. Pathetic romance 
is best typified by the Ramona of Mrs. Helen Hunt Jackson — a tale full of 
poetic insight as well as of poetic beauty, in behalf of the Indian. Its author 
is the greatest representative of a large school of modern writers, characterized 
by extreme sensitiveness, artistic perception, poetic aspirations and a somewhat 
sentimental but a very genuine love for the suffering and the oppressed. Their 
chief fault is, that while they soften the heart they never invigorate the will. 

It is to the South that we must turn for the best examples of retrospective 
romance. Idealizing has always been the Southerner's peculiar gift ; in the com- 




LOUISA MAY ALCOTT. 
(After a Photograph by Notman, Boston.) 



THE LITERATURE OF THE SOUTH AND WEST. 649 

paratively successful days before the war, it usually ran Into bombast and grand- 
iloquence, but the disasters of invasion and conquest have subdued it to the 
pastoral, the pathetic, the retrospective. In the days of slavery politics absorbed 
all the best energies and intellect of the South, but since the days of reconstruc- 
tion, more than one Southerner of promise has found in literature an attractive 
career. In a number of short dialect stories of plantation days, as well as in the 
tender, musical, visionary poems of Sidney Lanier, the South has contributed 
new and artistic elements to American literature. Indeed, the South is the home 
of our most characteristic short stories. The typical Southerner is still imbued 
with an intense local patriotism. Every village under his native skies is a little 
world to him. He finds compacted within its narrow limits many a theme for a 
brief romance, full of human interest. The romance of its vicissitudes in war, 
the romance of its love scenes — where love is still looked upon as the grand 
passion — the pathos of the disasters it suffered in the South's defeat, and the 
quaint humor of its colored folk, make a union of elements favorable to the 
story-teller's art. The South has produced at least two authors to do justice to 
these gifts of circumstance. Mr. Thomas Nelson Page depicts in his pages 
the South before the war. Under his hand, an idealizing regret beautifies the 
past till it seems a golden age. A half vicarious boastfulness, a meagre 
achievement and a genuine poetic aspiration blend in the true Southerner's tem- 
perament. Mr. Page has nothing of the boastfulness ; he seldom, if ever, 
depicts the meagre externals, but he does exquisite justice to the poetic aspira- 
tions of his countrymen. His tales are pathetic, romantic, picturesque, catholic, 
and toward both races sympathetic and appreciative. Of very different tem- 
perament is his compeer, Mr. Joel Chandler Harris. Mr. Harris's sketches are 
artistically true, not, as is the case with Mr. Page, because they reveal the aspi- 
rations of the old-time Southern temperament, but because of their author's 
alert observations of life as it is He is alive with a vitality which makes for 
cheerfulness, quickness, deftness, appreciativeness. Though he deals with a 
passing, if not a past, civilization, he looks back to it neither regretfully, nor 
inimically, nor indifferently. He even goes to it for invigo ration. Though there 
is pathos in his stories, they are full of hope and freshness of life. On the one 
hand he does not touch such deep chords as does Mr. Page ; on the other, he 
is more vivacious and stimulating. 

Successful studies in provincial life, however, are not limited to the South. 
Every distinctive region in the United States can claim its distinctive literature. 
To-day Miss Wilkins and Miss Jewett, of a decade or so ago, Saxe Holme, and 
to go back much earlier, Hawthorne, are the names which naturally occur to us, 
when we turn to New England. Of these. Miss Wilkins' painstaking and often 
painfully conscientious sketches are the most trustworthy, though not always 
the pleasantest depictions of Puritan manners, customs, and habits of utter- 



650 



THE STORY OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 



ance. Not only to the meagre, rigid and self-repressive lives of these 
village Calvinists, but as well to their earnest purposes, their loyal consecra- 
tion to duty and their genuine reverence for the home, the church and the 
state, Miss Wilkins is just. Her studies — stories they can hardly be called — 
are perhaps works of science rather than works of art. but in either case, they 
are literature. 

That cosmopolitan New York should furnish material for the same scien- 
tific study in provincialism would seem to involve a contradiction in terms. Yet 










WillTTlER S IlIKTHl'LACE. 



that city has an individuality of its own, difficult as it is to depict. Mr. Janvier 
has done something for its art studios and its French colonies. Mr. Hovvclls, 
in his "Hazard of New Fortunes," has done something for its streets and 
houses, but it is to Mr. Hamlin Garland and to Mr. Richard Harding Davis 
that we are indebted for the introduction of typical New Yorkers to Ameri- 
can readers. Bach, in his different view, gives a hint of the literary possibil- 
ities to be found in what has heretofore seemed commonplace New York. In 
Mr. Eugene Field's grotesque commingling of New England reminiscence, the 
love of exaggeration to be found all over the western plains, and the quips of 



AMERICAN HUMOR— AMERICAN HISTORIANS. . 65 1 

humor and turns of tenderness which are closely associated with the Pacific 
coast, we find writing appropriate to Chicago, while further west, Arkansas 
finds utterance in the sympathetic studies of Octave Thanet. The early min- 
ing excitement of the Californian coast had its own peculiar Hterature 
in the racy sketches of Bret Harte — a skillful pupil of Dickens in his 
mingled humor and pathos, grotesqueness and idealism, and in his depiction of 
acts of gentleness in lives of hardship. His pictures of mining-life, however, 
have in them an originality which makes him something more than a mere 
pupil. He has made a distinct, though a provincial contribution to letters. 

Outside of these sketches there is little genuine humor in American litera- 
ture. We have many writers of extravagant burlesque ; we have in Dr. Oliver 
Wendell Holmes a kindly, brilliant, scintillating, suggestive wit ; but we can 
find nowhere in American letters that delicate and quizzical self-revelation, that 
pathetic oddness, those fantastically expressed confidences, those self-amused 
idiosyncracies which constitute humor and which flavored the conversations of 
Abraham Lincoln. There is a reserve in American writers which prevents such 
hum.or. To find it we must go to the English Charles Lamb, Thomas Fuller, 
and Sir Thomas Browne. Few nations, however, have produced any wittier 
books than Dr. Holmes' Breakfast Table Series, or more laughable extrava- 
gances than Mark Twain's, while more quiet and more graceful, though less 
original than either, are the shorter sketches of Charles Dudley Warner and 
"Ike Marvel." 

Scientific observation and poetic insight united in Thoreau to give him a 
familiar acquaintance with the shy beauties of nature. His writings are marred 
by infelicities and affectations in expression, but they are the work of a genuine 
lover and interpreter of the woods and streams. He is the master in a school 
which includes an increasing number of writers every decade. 

At least those American historians, Prescott, Parkman, and Motley, have 
gained a transatlantic reputation for the eloquence of their style, the beauty of 
their description, and the artistic power of their presentations of historic 
movements. All three were careful scholars, though idealists, vigorous, and 
clear writers, and sanguine Americans. To those at all seriously inclined their 
histories are as absorbing as fiction, and, if too enthusiastic to be accurate in 
all their details, are unquestionably true in general outline. They have made 
use of the imagination as an aid to scholarship, not as a substitute for it, and 
they have used it chiefly, if not solely, to elucidate truth. 

There is nothing in oratory more profoundly eloquent than the two addresses 
of Abraham Lincoln on the field of Gettysburg. They are the simple and 
devout expressions of a national patriotism, purged of all worldly passion. The 
chasteness, the harmony, the marvelous beauty of their language is, however, 
forgotten in the sublimer beauty of their thought and spirit. They are so sacred 



652 



THE STORY OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. 



^ 



to something higher than literature that we never think of them as Hterature. 
The clear and animating orations of the chivalric, visionary Wendell Phillips 
deserve a passing mention for their beauty of form and transparency of 
argument. But our one. great orator is the Whig statesman, Daniel Webster. 
He was educated in New Hampshire, under that vigorous discipline which only 
the hardships of poverty can give, and showed the value of his training in the 
stalwartness of his after-life, when he stood for a conscientious adherence to the 

Union and to the Constitution 
liberally interpreted. To this 
day, his sonorous, significant, 
and impressive utterances 
must be studied for any 
thorough appreciation of the 
responsibilities of American 
citizenship and the genius of 
American institutions. By 
his inherent dignity he long 
maintained against the en- 
croachments of the modern 
politician our forefathers' 
standard of dignity in Ameri- 
can public life. Unquestion- 
ably the inferior of the great 
English statesman, Edmund 
Burke, in beauties of imagi- 
nation, precision and incisive- 
ness of language, and in 
profundity of statesmanship, 
he was at least more smooth, 
more even, and more self- 
controlled. 
The contrast between the two well illustrates the contrast between 
England and America in every department of literature. The typical English 
writer shows the greater mastery of the powers and striking beauties of 
language. The American is the smoother and the more polished. The 
English is the more intense, and the more self-expressive, and the more 
powerful ; the American the more guarded and the more contented. America 
has produced as yet no literature comparable to the greater classics of England, 
but she has produced much worthy to be found in every Anglo-Saxon house- 
hold, and capable of cheering and strengthening in his work and hardships 
e.\'ery Anglo-Sa.xon reader. 




WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 
(From a Photograph by Sarony, New York^ 



FAMOUS AMERICAN AUTHORS. 



WASHINGTON IRVING, 

AUTHOR OF THE "SKETCH BOOK." 



IRVING, one of the first authors to 
make a real American literature, 
was born in New York in 1783. In 
consequence of delicate health he 
spent much of his youth in Euro- 
pean travel. In 1809 he published 
his famous " Knickerbocker's His- 
tory of New York," which had 
great success. But it is by his 
"Sketch Book," published in 1819, 
that he will be longest remembered. 
Rip Van Winkle and his twenty 
years' sleep, the amorous school- 
master and the Headless Horse- 
man of Sleepy Hollow, are charac- 
ters which live forever immortal. 
This book, although published in 
America, was written in England, 
where Irving was then livino- en- 
joying the pleasures of intimate 
friendship with Sir Walter Scott, 
Campbell, and the most famous 
English writers of the time. Syd- 
ney Smith's famous taunt, "Who reads an American book?" lost its truth 
and its sting after the "Sketch Book" came from America to charm and 
captivate the reading world of England. John Murray, the famous English 
publisher, paid Irving large sums for that book and for " Bracebridge Hall" 
and the "Tales of a Traveler," which followed it. There is a story that 
while Irving was at the height of his popularity in England, two women were 
overheard in conversation before a bust of Washington in an art gallery. 
"Who was Washington, mother?" asked the younger. "Why, my dear, 
don't you know?" was the reproving reply; "he wrote the 'Sketch Book.' " 
In 1826 Irving went to Spain, occupying for some time a suite of rooms in the 
38 653 




V7ASHINGT0N IRVING. 



6S4 



WASHINGTON IRl'/XG. 



famous old Moorish palace of the Alhambra. While there he wrote his "Life 
of Columbus," the "Conquest of Granada," and the "Alhambra" tales, all of 
which had great success. In 1832 he returned to America, and settled at his 
country seat, "Sunnyside," on the Hudson, near Tarrytown. This lovely home 

soon became the resort of 
the foremost literary and 
public men of America. 




11 j."i ,11,.-; !•. Ai DKsc'KinF.n 

IIY "KNICKERBOCKER." 



Irving was a most charm- 
ing host, and was never 
more in his element than 
tvhen surrounded by appreciative and responsive friends. In 1842, at the sug- 
gestion of Daniel Webster, he was appointed by President Tyler minister to 
Spain, where he spent four years, returning in 1846 to his beloved Sunnyside, 
where he lived until his death in November, 1859. 



WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 



655 



" Irving was as quaint a figure," says George W. Curtis, " as Diedrich 
Knickerbocker himself, . . . tripping witli elastic step along Broadway, with 
low-quartered shoes, neatly tied, and a Talma cloak, — a short garment that hung 
from his shoulders like the cape of a coat. There was a chirping, cheery, old- 
school air in his appearance, which was undeniably Dutch, and most harmonious 
with the associations of his own writings. He seemed, indeed, to have stepped 
out of his own books ; and the cordial grace and humor of his address were 
delightfully characteristic." 



WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT, 

THE OLDEST OF THE GREAT AMERICAN POETS. 

{^See portrait, page 6j3.) 




ROBABLY there is no other one among the list of American 
authors whose career so links the literature of the past and of 
the present as Bryant. "Thanatopsis," one of his most popular 
poems (though he himself ranked it low), was written in 181 2, 
when the poet was only eighteen. He was born in western 
Massachusetts in 1794, and removed to New York in 1825. In 
1826 he began to edit the Evening Post, and from that time until 
the day of his death William Cullen Bryant and the Evening 
Post were almost as conspicuous and permanent features of the city as the Bat- 
tery and Trinity church. He lived under twenty Presidential administrations, 
closing his life in New York in 1878. 

In 1 82 1 Mr. Bryant married Frances Fairchild, the loveliness of whose char- 
acter is hinted in some of his sweetest poems. The one beginning 

" O fairest of the rural maids," 

was written some years before their marriage ; and "The Future Life," one of 
the noblest and most pathetic of his poems, is addressed to her; — 

" In meadows fanned by Heaven's life-breathing wind. 
In the resplendence of that glorious sphere 
And larger movements of the unfettered mind, 
Wilt thou forget the love that joined us here ? 

" Will not thy own meek heart demand me there, — 
That heart whose fondest throbs to me were given ? 
My name on earth was ever in thy prayer, 
And wilt thou never utter it in heaven?" 



6s6 WILLIAM CULLEX BRYANT. 

Among his best-known poems are "A Forest Hymn," "The Death of the 
Flowers," "Lines to a Waterfowl," and "The Planting of the Apple-Tree." 
One of the greatest of his works, though not among the most popular, is his 
translation of Homer, which he completed when seventy-seven years of age. 

Bryant had a marvelous memory. His familiarity with the English poets 
was such that when at sea, where he was always too ill to read much, he would 
beguile the time by reciting page after page from favorite poems. However 
long the voyage, he never exhausted his resources. " I once proposed," says a 
friend, "to send for a copy of a magazine in which a new poem of his was 
announced to appear. 'You need not send for it,' said he, 'I can give it to 
you.' 'Then you have a copy with you ? ' said I. ' No,' he replied, ' but I can 
recall it,' and thereupon proceeded immediately to write it out. I congratulated 
him upon having such a faithful memory. 'If allowed a little time,' he replied, 
'I could recall every line of poetry I have ever written.' " 

His tenderness of the feelings of others, and his earnest desire always to 
avoid the giving of unnecessary pain, were very marked. " Soon after I began 
to do the duties of literary editor," writes an associate, "Mr. Bryant, who was 
reading a review of a little book of wretchedly halting verse, said to me : ' I 
wish you would deal very gently with poets, especially the weaker ones.' Later, 
I had a very bad case of poetic idiocy to deal with, and as Mr. Bryant happened 
to come into my room while I was debating the matter in my mind, I said to 
him that I was embarrassed by his injunction to deal gently with poets, and 
pointed out to him the utter impossibility of finding anything to praise or lightly 
to condemn in the book before me. After I had read some of its stanzas to 
him, he answered: 'No, you can't praise it, of course ; it won't do to lie about 
it, but ' — turning the volume in his hand and inspecting it — ' you might say that 
the binding is securely put on, and that — well, the binder has planed the 
edges pretty smooth.' " 

Bryant was a man of very striking appearance, especially in age. "It is a 
fine sight," says one writer, "a man full of years, clear in mind, sober in judg- 
ment, refined in taste, and handsome in person. ... I remember once to have 
been at a lecture where Mr. Bryant sat several seats in front of me, and his 
finely-sized head was especially noticeable. . . . The observer of Bryant's 
capacious skull and most refined expression of face cannot fail to read therein 
tlie history of a noble manhood." 



JAMES FENIMORE COOPER, 

THE PIONEER OF AMERICAN HISTORICAL ROMANCE. 



COOPER has been called "The 
Walter Scott of America." His 
historical romances of frontier and 
Indian life in the early days formed 
a new and distinctive American lit- 
erature. Cooper was born in Bur- 
lington, New Jersey, in 1789, but 
his boyhood home was at Coopers- 
town, in central New York, where 
his father had built a house in tlie 
wilderness, on the shores of Otsego 
lake. The place was surrounded by 
Indians of the "Six Nations," who 
came to Cooperstown for purposes 
of trade, and sometimes with hostile 
intent. The romantic surroundings 
of his early youth doubtless had a 
powerful influence upon Cooper's 
literary career. In 1803 he entered 
Yale College ; but his love of free- 
dom and roving disposition led to 
lawless excursions to the seashore 
and the interior, in consequence of 
which, in his third year, he was expelled. In 1806, when only seventeen, he 
went to sea as a common sailor, and afterward entered the navy as a midship- 
man. In 181 1 he married the daughter of Peter De Lancey, one of a New 
York family who had been Tories during the Revolution. This marriage was 
one of several events which led to his being charged with English sympathies, 
and to his subsequent unpopularity. 

Cooper was thirty years old before the thought of a literary career had 
entered his mind. One day, when reading an English novel to his wife, he 
ust, " I believe I could write a better story myself" Encour- 

657 




JAMES FENIMORE COUTER. 



exclaimed in discr 



658 JAMES FEN I MO RE COOPER. 

aged by her, the thoughtless remark became a purpose, and resulted in his first 
story, " Precaution," which, while dealing with unfamiliar scenes, was successful 
enough to prompt further effort. The story of a spy of the Revolution, told to 
him years before by his friend John Jay {see p. gj), recurred to his mind, and he 
wrote the tale of " The Spy," which had a success then unprecedented in 
American literature. Then followed rapidly "The Pioneers," "The Pilot," and 
"The Last of the Mohicans," which in 1826 raised his fame to the highest 
point. The power of his description is well illustrated by its effect on an old 
sailor, to whom Cooper read parts of "The Pilot," while he was writing it. 
When he came to the passage describing the vessel beating out of the " Devil's 
Grip " shoals, in the gathering storm, his auditor became restless, rose from his 
chair, and began uneasily to pace the floor. Not a detail escaped him. Pres- 
ently he burst out, " It's all very well, my fine fellow, but you have let your 
jib stand too long." Cooper was delighted with his success, but took the hint, 
and made the wind blow the jib from its bolt-ropes. 

For a quarter of a century a ceaseless succession of books poured from 
Cooper's busy pen. In the latter part of his life, unfortunately, he became 
involved in numerous controversies and quarrels, most of them resulting from 
strictures in his books upon America and Americans, especially in " Homeward 
Bound." A friend, writing from Italy after reading that book, said, " I think 
you lose your hold on the American public by rubbing down their shins with 
brickbats as you do." In consequence of newspaper attacks, Mr. Cooper 
brought libel suits against Thurlow Weed, Horace Greeley, James Watson 
Webb, and other editors. These cases he argued himself, showing great ability 
as a lawyer, and secured numerous verdicts giving him damages ; but the result 
increased his unpopularity. He retired to his domain at Cooperstown, where 
he died in 1S51, leaving an injunction to his children that no biography of him 
should be written or materials furnished by them. Six months after his death 
a public meeting in honor of the great novelist's memory was held in New York. 
Daniel Webster presided and addressed the gathering, and William Cullen 
Bryant made an address which did much to restore Cooper to his rightful place 
amontr the writers wh6 have won for American literature a o^reat and enduring 
fame. 



GEORGE BANCROFT, 

THE EMINENT AMERICAN HISTORIAN. 

THE great historian of the United 
States was the son of Rev. Aaron 
Bancroft, a typical New England 
clergyman. He was born in Octo- 
ber, 1800, — the same month and 
year in which Macaulay, the 
great English historian, first saw 
the light. To his native brains 
Mr. Bancroft was fortunately able 
to add unusual educational oppor- 
tunities. He entered Harvard at 
thirteen, graduated at seventeen, 
and after his graduation pursued a 
long course of study and travel in 
Europe, whence he returned in 
1822, bringincr the fruits of his ex- 
perience in the shape of rare stores 
of knowledge and culture, and an 
extensive acquaintance with the 
most distinguished men of the 
time. He then entered political 
life, in which for many years he 
took an active part. In 1834 ap- 
peared the first volume of his great History. Politics interrupted his literary 
work, and the succeeding volumes followed at long intervals. In 1845 ^e was 
made .Secretan, of the Navy under President Polk, and in 1846 minister to 
England. The tenth and last volume of the History was not published until 
1874. It comes down only to the close of the Revolution. The intense patriot- 
ism of the author is manifest in nearly every page, and the work has been 
criticised as "a Fourth-of-July oration in ten volumes." This fault, however, if 
it be a fault, is easy for Americans to forgive, and the work is generally 
regarded as the standard histor}- of America up to the time of the Constitution. 

65Q 




GEORGE BANCROFT. 



66o 



RALPH WALDO EMERSON. 



Mr. Bancroft was an orator as well as a historian and politician, one of the 
best-known of his addresses being the famous oration on Lincoln, delivered 
before Congress in 1866. During the latter part of his life he had a winter 
home in Washington, where the national archives and the Library of Coni^ress 
were always at his hand, and a summer home at Newport, wjiere he had a won- 
derful garden of roses, which was a great attraction. Rose-growing and horse- 
back riding were his recreations, and the erect and striking form of the historian, 
with his long gray beard, mounted on a fine horse, was for years a familiar 
figure at Newport and on the streets of Washington. 




RALPH WALDO EMERSON, 

THE CONCORD PHILOSOPHER AND POET. 

(5« portrait, p. 642.) 

iMERSON, the famous philosopher, poet, and essayist, the "Sage 

of Concord," was born in Boston in 1803, and graduated at 

Harvard when only eighteen. It is characteristic of him that 

? while in college he spent most of his time in the library ; and 

at graduation, although not above the average of his class in 

general studies, in literature he was far beyond any of them. 

He studied for the ministry, and for a few years was pastor of 

a Boston church ; but he soon resigned because he could not 

accept some of the doctrines of the church, and thereafter devoted himself to 

literature. His home was in Concord, Massachusetts, near the scene of the 

famous battle of 1775, commemorated by his own verse : — 

" There first the embattled farmers stood, 

And fired the shot heard round the world." 

This home, especially after his works had given him reputation and author- 
ity, became a sort of Mecca to which Emerson's disciples and admirers, drawn 
either by the man himself or by his works, made pilgrimages. He had a pecu- 
liarly attractive and impressive personality. One writer says of him : "One day 
there came into our pulpit the most gracious of mortals, with a face all benig- 
nity, who gave out the first hymn and made the first prayer, as an angel might 
have read and prayed. Our choir was a pretty good one, but its best was 
coarse and discordant alter Emerson's voice." Miss Predrika Bremer, the 
Swedish novelist, who visited America in 1849, thus describes him : — 

" Emerson came to meet us, walking down the little avenue of spruce firs 



EDGAR A. POE. 66i 

which leads from his house, bare-headed amid the falling snow. He is a quiet, 
nobly grave figure, his complexion pale, with strongly marked features and 
dark hair. That which struck me most, as distinguishing him from most other 
human beings, is his nobility. He is a born nobleman. I have seen before two 
other men born with this stamp upon them. Emerson is the third who has it, 
and perhaps in a yet higher degree. And added thereto that deep intonation 
of voice, that e.xpression, so mild yet so elevated at the same time, I could not 
but think of Maria Lowell's words, ' If he merely mentions my name I feel my- 
self ennobled.' " 

It was in his home life that the peculiar power and loveliness of Emerson's 
character shone most conspicuously. "His charm," says one. writer, "lay 
largely in his manners, which were simple, yet faultless. He greeted his friends 
with all the mildness and serenity of the very god of repose, and induced in 
them ... a feeling of entire contentment with all the world. No heat, no fret, 
no hurry, no great call to strenuous exertion to appear well or make a fine impres- 
sion. All was ease, calm, unstudied attention to every little want, and talk fit 
for the noblest and the best." He was an example of what he himself honored 
most: — "I honor," he says, "that man whose ambition it is, not to win laurels 
in the State or the army, not to be a jurist or a naturalist, not to be a poet or a 
commander, but to be a master of living well, and to administer the offices of 
master or servant, of husband, father, and friend." 

Emerson died at Concord in April, 1882. 



EDGAR A, POE, 

THE BRILLIANT POET AND AUTHOR. 



AMONG the geniuses of literature there are few names whose history 
is so completely dark and sad as that of Edgar A. Poe. The author of " The 
Raven " and "The Bells," and of those wonderful romances which have made 
his name famous, was the son of a pair of actors on the variety stage, and was 
born in Baltimore in 1S09. His parents were miserably poor, and the death of 
the mother in Richmond in 181 1 left her three children to the care of the public. 
Edgar, who was a beautiful and precocious child, was adopted by Mrs. John 
Allan, by whom he was brought up in luxury. He was a brilliant scholar, 
and had the best educational advantages ; but at the University of Virginia, 
which he entered at the age of seventeen, he formed the habit of drinking, — a 
habit which wrecked his whole life. After graduating, he spent a year in 



662 



EDGAR A. POE. 



Europe, and became editor first of the Soiithcrn Literary JMcsscnger and after- 
ward of the Gentleman s Magazine and Graham s Alagazine. He married his 
cousin, Virginia Clemm, when she was only fourteen years of age, and the 
two, with Virginia's mother, led a life of the deepest poverty for ten years, 
until his wife's death. 

This marriage, rash and foolish as it seems, was one of the best things in 
Poe's life. He was a kind and devoted husband, and his wife repaid him with 

an affection that was little short 
of worship. But he was never 
able to rid himself of his appe- 
tite for drink, and he died at last 
of delirium tremens. 

Poe was a fine reader and 
elocutionist. A writer who at- 
tended two lectures by him in 
Richmond says, "I never heard a 
voice so musical as his. It was 
full of the sweetest melody. Dur- 
ing the lecture he recited Hood's 
' Bridge of Sighs.' A little boy 
about twelve years of age was 
sitting near me. He was listen- 
ing intently, and before Poe had 
finished the poem he was in tears. 
Could there be any greater tri- 
bute to a speaker's power ? After 
the lecture Poe very modestly 
said, ' I have been requested to 
recite my own poem, "The Ra- 
ven." ' No one who heard this 
will ever forget the beauty and 
pathos with which this recitation was rendered. The audience was as still as 
death, and as his weird, musical voice filled the hall, its effect was simply inde- 
scribable. It seems to me that I can yet hear that long, plaintive ' Nevermore.' " 
A lady who was an intimate friend of Poe in his later years says of him : — 

"I have never seen him otherwise than gentle, generous, well-bred, and fastidiously refined. 
To a sensitive and delicately nurtured woman there was a peculiar and irresistible charm in the 
chivalric, graceful, and almost tender reverence with which he invariably approached all women 
who won his respect." 

Poe died in Baltimore in 1849. 




EDGAR A. rOE. 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE, 

THE GREATEST AMERICAN WRITER OF ROMANCE. 




THE famous author of " The 
Scarlet Letter " and " The Marble 
Faun " was the son of a sea-cap- 
tain, and was born in Salem, Mas- 
sachusetts, in 1804. (See p. 638.) 
He graduated at Bovvdoin College, 
Maine, Longfellow, the poet, and 
Franklin Pierce, afterward Presi- 
dent of the United States, beinof 
among his classmates. Hawthorne 
was moody and melancholy, and 
Pierce did much to cheer and en- 
courage him, thus laying the foun- 
dation of a lifelong friendship. In 
1S43 Hawthorne took up his resi- 
dence at Concord, in the " Old 
Manse" (see p. 640), which he has 
made so famous, and from whose 
windows, it is said, the minister of 
the parish, on April 19th, 1775, 
looked out upon the memorable 
battle between his fellow-townsmen 
and the British troops. In 1846 he 
published "Mosses from an Old Manse," and in 1850 "The Scarlet Letter," 
which immediately placed him at the head of American writers of fiction. In 
1852 President Pierce appointed him consul at Liverpool, and most of the 
remainder of his life was spent in Europe. 

In general company, Hawthorne was silent and reserved. He was intensely 
shy, so much so that he has been known to leave the road and take to the fields 
rather than encounter a group of passers-by. He loved to go on solitary 
walks, seeking out secluded places where he could muse and dream without 
fear of disturbance. Once he brought Mr. Fields, his friend and publisher, to one 

663 



NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 



664 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 

of these haunts, and bade him lie down on the grass, and watch the clouds float 
above, and hear the birds sing. " As we steeped ourselves in the delicious idle- 
ness," writes Mr. Fields, "he began to murmur some half- forgotten lines from 
Thomson's ' Seasons,' which he said had been favorites of his boyhood. While we 
lay there, hidden in the grass, we heard approaching footsteps, and Hawthorne 
hurriedly whispered, 'Duck! or we shall be interrupted by somebody.' The 
solemnity of his manner, and the thought of the down-flat position in which we 
had both placed ourselves to avoid being seen, threw me into a foolish semi- 
hysterical fit of laughter, and when he nudged me, and again whispered more 

lugubriously than ever, ' Heaven help me, Mr. is close upon us ! ' I felt 

convinced that if the thing went further, suffocation, in my case at least, must 
ensue." 

Fortunately for Hawthorne, and for the world as well, he was most 
happily married, his wife being a woman of strong common sense and strength 
of character, able to shield her sensitive, shy, unpractical husband from the 
world, willing and glad to bear the burdens of poverty for his sake, and finding 
her abundant recompense in his love and companionship. The early years of 
their marriage, before the publication of " The Scarlet Letter," were spent in 
poverty and obscurity ; but there was the most perfect sympathy and companion- 
ship in the home life. Theirs was in truth an ideal marriage. Hawthorne 
himself writes : — 

" My wife is in the strictest sense my sole companion, and I need no other ; 
there is no vacancy in my mind any more than in my heart. In truth, I have 
spent so many years in total seclusion from human society that it is no wonder 
if now I feel all my desires satisfied by this sole intercourse." 

Hawthorne returned from Europe with his family during the time of the 
civil war, and died not long after his return. "We carried him," writes 
Fields, " through the blossoming orchards of Concord, and laid him down under 
a group of pines on a hillside ; the unfinished romance which had cost him 
such an.xiety laid upon his coffin." His friend, Longfellow, in one of his 
most exquisite poems, describes the scene, referring to the uncompleted 
romance in the closing lines : — 

"Ah, who shall lift that wand of magic ])ower, 
And the lost clue regain ? 
The unfinished window in Aladdin's tower 
Unfinished must remain." 



HENRY D. THOREAU, 

THE CONCORD HERMIT AND NATURALIST. 




THOREAU is one of the most 
quaint and striking figures of the 
" Concord group " of writers and 
philosopliers, of which Emerson was 
the head. He was born in i8i 7, and 
graduated at Harvard in 1837. In 
manners, dress, and mode of Hfe he 
was very eccentric. In 1845 he built 
a small frame house on the shores 
of Walden Pond, near Concord, 
where for some years he lived as a 
hermit, devoting himself to the study 
of nature. He gives an account of 
this part of his life in the little book 
entitled "Walden." In later years 
his writings became better known 
and more popular ; but a year after 
an edition of one thousand copies of 
his first work was printed, he wrote 
to a friend that he could now say 
that he was the owner of a library 
of nearly a thousand volumes, over 
nine hundred of which he wrote him- 
self It is said that Thoreau never went to church, never voted, and never 
paid a tax. The only business which he ever followed was that of a surveyor. 
Emerson says of him, " Mr. Thoreau dedicated his genius with such entire love 
to the fields, hills, and waters of his native town, that he made them known and 
interesting to all reading Americans and to people over the sea. Whilst he 
used in his writings a certain petulance of remark in reference to churches and 
churchmen, he was a person of rare, tender, and absolute religion, — a person 
incapable of any profanation." He was never married. He died in 1862. 

665 



HENRY D. THOREAU. 



JOHN G. WHITTIER, 
THE QUAKER POET OF AMERICA. 



WHITTIER, the poet of freedom 
and right and truth, the author of 
"Snow-Bound" and "The Tent 
on the Beach," was a New Eng- 
land farmer's son, born at Haver- 
hill, Massachusetts, in 1809. He 
has given us a most perfect picture 
of the home life of his youth, glow- 
ing with life and color, in the ex- 
quisite poem of "Snow-Bound." 
Not even the hard, bare, practical 
round of farm life in a Quaker 
home could repress the poetry in 
him. When he was a boy of 
eighteen, he sent with fear and 
trembling some anonymous verses 
to the weekly paper in Newbury- 
port, of which William Lloyd Gar- 
rison, afterward the famous aboli- 
tionist, was editor. When the next 
paper came, Whittier was trans- 
fixed with delighted surprise to find 
his verses not only printed, but 
commended, with a note by the editor asking for more. Soon afterward Garri- 
son, himself little more than a boy, came to see the young poet, and to plead 
with his parents for an education for him. Whittier thus naturally drifted into 
advocacy of the cause of freedom, and for many years his earnest and thrilling 
poems were devoted to that cause. On more than one occasion he was threat- 
ened with mob violence for his part in the abolition movement, for which, after 
the final overthrow of slavery, he was so much honored. 

Whittier was never married. His home was presided over for many years 

666 




JOHN G. WHITTIER. 



JOHN G. WHITTIER. 667 

by his sister Elizabeth, a most lovely and talented woman, between whom and 
her brother was an unusually close and affectionate bond. Her death was the 
greatest loss of his life, and he has written nothing more touching than his 
tribute to her memory in "Snow Bound": — 

"The birds are glad ; the brier-rose fills 
The air with sweetness ; all the hills 
Stretch green to June's unclouded sky ; 
But still [ wait with ear and eye 
For something gone which should be nigh, — 
A loss in all familiar things, 

In flower that blooms, and bird that sings. * 

And yet, dear heart, remembering thee. 
Am I not richer than of old ? 
Safe in thy nnmortaiity, 
What change can reach the wealth I hold ? 
What chance can mar the pearl and gold 
Thy love hath left in trust with me?" 

In personal appearance Whittier was described in his prime as "tall, slen- 
der, and straight as an Indian. He has a superb head ; his broad brow looks 
like a white cloud under his raven hair ; eyes large, black as sloes, and glowing 
with expression, . . . flashing like stars under such a magnificent forehead." 

Although Whittier was for nearly half a century famous as a poet, his 
works, until his later years, brought him a very scanty revenue. From his 
"Life and Letters," published in 1894, we learn that the first sales of "Snow 
Bound" realized $10,000, after which he was in comfortable circumstances. 
" The Tent on the Beach " sold for some weeks at the rate of a thousand copies 
a day, and he wrote to his publisher, " This will never do. The swindle is 
awful." He could hardly credit the popularity of his poems, and felt that it 
was not merited. 

The poet was shy and diffident among strangers and in formal society, but 
anionof his friends sfenial and deliehtful, with a fund of gentle and delicate 
humor which gave his conversation a great charm. He was extremely fond of 
children, who rarely failed to appreciate and return his love. Though always a 
member of the Society of Friends, he was broad and liberal, dwelling little 
upon forms or creeds. Once, when a little niece wanted a scarlet cape such as 
other children were wearing, and her Quaker mother objected, Mr. Whittier 
pleaded for the little girl so well that she was allowed to have her way. 

The evening of Mr. Whittier's life was passed among near friends at Dan- 
vers, Massachusetts, with the pleasant consciousness of being widely esteemed 
and beloved. He died on September 7th, 1892. 



JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL, 

THE GREAT POET AND ESSAYIST. 

(Sfir porlrait, p. 646.) 



IT IS hard to label this many- 
sided man, author of "The 
Vision of Sir Launfal " and 
the "Fable for Critics," the 
" Biglow Papers " and the 
"Present Crisis," poet, essay- 
ist, critic, wit, man of letters, 
diplomatist, and professor. 
He was born in Boston in 
1 8 19. He graduated at Har- 
vard, and began the study of 
law, but soon gave it up to 
devote himself to literature. 
He married Maria White, a 
woman of singular beauty and 
loveliness, who is the subject 
of some of his most exquisite 
poems. Mrs. Lowell was her- 
self a poet, the best known of 
her works being those sweet 
and pathetic poems, "The 

Alpine Sheep" and "The Morning-Glory," both in memory of a dead child. 

Mrs. Lowell herself died in 1853. On the night of her death a daughter was 

born to Mr. Lowell's neighbor, the poet Longfellow, who sent to his friend the 

beautiful poem, "The Two Angels." 

" 'Twasat thy door, O friend, and not at mine 
The angel with the amaranthine WTCath, 
Pausing, descended, and with voice divine 
Uttered a word that had a sound like death. 

"Then fell upon the house a sudden gloom, 
A shadow on those features fair and thin, 
And slowly, from that hushed and darkened room, 
Two angels issued, where but one went in." 
668 




INTERIOR OF MF.MORIAT. HAI.I., HARVARD UNIVERSITY. 



JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 



669 



In 1854 Mr. Lowell was appointed to the chair of belles-lettres in Harvard 
University, and for a number of years delivered lectures on literature of a very 
high order. When the Atlantic Monthly was established, in 1857, he became 
its editor, and under his care it attained the highest literary rank. He also 
edited for some years the North American Review. He was appointed by 
President Hayes minister to Spain, and afterward minister to England, where he 
received the highest honors. He was particularly distinguished for his admir- 
able public addresses, of which he made a number while in England, receiving 
the highest praise for his efforts. 




MEMORIAL HALL, HARVARD UNIVERSITY. 



Lowell began early to employ his pen In behalf of the cause of freedom. 
The first series of the " Biglow Papers," satirizing the Mexican War, showed 
that a new force had appeared in literature. Many who had been indifferent to 
the subject were attracted and interested by their keen wit and sarcasm. A 
certain John P. Robinson attained undying fame by being pilloried in a verse of 
Lowell's, whose jingle caught the popular ear ; and poor Mr. Robinson, dis- 
tracted by hearing on every hand some one repeating how 

"John P. 
Robinson he 
Sez they didn't know everything down in Judee," 
39 



670 



WALT WHITMAN. 



sailed for Europe ; but one of the first things he heard on arriving- on foreign 
shores was that same tormenting rhyme, which pursued him wherever he went. 
The first series of these " Papers " undoubtedly had a powerful influence in 
forming public opinion against slavery ; while the second series, published 
during the war, was even more potent in winning support for the government in 
prosecuting the war, and for the emancipation measures. The stinging words 
of his " Mason and Slidell," written when England was threatening war because 
of the capture of the Confederate commissioners, still thrill the heart and stir the 
blood. And his greatest poem, the noble " Commemoration Ode," was read 
at the dedication of " Memorial Hall," at Harvard, to the sons of the great Uni- 
versity who fell in the civil war. Nowhere is Lowell's fervent patriotism more 
worthily expressed than in the closing lines of that great poem : — 

" What words of lover or of poet 
Could tell our love and make thee know it, 

Among the nations bright beyond compare ! 
What were our lives without thee? 
What all our lives to save thee ? 
We reck not what we gave thee. 
We will not dare to doubt thee; 
* But ask whatever else, and we will dare ! " 

Mr. Lowell died at his home in Cambridge, Massachusetts, on August 
12th, 1 89 1. 



WALT WHITMAN, 
THE AUTHOR OF "LEAVES OF GRASS." 

{See portrait, p. 6^.) 



NE of the most original and striking figures among American 
'■ writers is Walt Whitman, the author of " Drum-taps " and 
" Leaves of Grass." Whitman was born on Long Island in 
1 8 19, and learned the printing trade in Brooklyn, which favored 
the development of his literary ability. From boyhood he had 
a " passion for humanity," and an equally strong one for nature, 
and spent much of his time on the lonely Long Island beaches, 
and again among the crowds on the streets and at the ferries. 
For some years he was engaged as a printer and journalist, editing the Brook- 
lyn Eagle and other papers. "Leaves of Grass" was first published in 1855. 
It was certainly a new kind of poetry, and stirred up much discussion, being 




LOUISA M. ALCOTT. 



671 



vehemently denounced by many critics for its violation of all accepted rules of 
literary propriety. During the civil war Whitman was a volunteer nurse in 
the Washington hospitals, and on Lincoln's tragic death wrote his fine poem, 
" My Captain," which was published in the collection called " Drum-taps." 
This book confirmed his reputation as a poet, which from that time increased 
steadily, especially in England. During the latter part of his life he lived in a 
small house in Camden, New Jersey. He was a familiar figure on the streets 
and ferry-boats, with his long white beard, slouch hat, and peculiar dress. His 
kindness of heart and amiable disposition made him greatly beloved among 
those by whom he was best known. He died in 1892. 



LOUISA M. ALCOTT, 

THE AUTHOR OF "LITTLE WOMEN. 

i^See portrait, page 64S.) 




OT one of the stories of the author of "Little Women," fasci- 
nating as the young people of America have found them to be, 
'' is half so interesting or pathetic as the story of her own life 
and work. Miss Alcott was born in 1832, in Germantown, 
now a suburb of Philadelphia. She was the daughter of Amos 
Bronson Alcott. one of the " Concord school " of philosophers, 
of whom Emerson was the head. He was an amiable, scholarly, 
unworldly man, — -one of the geniuses of Avhom it has been aptly 
said that they "have every kind of sense but common-sense." Mr. Alcott's 
various hobbies, his frequent changes, and his utter lack of thrift, made life hard 
indeed for his devoted wife and their children. In 1834 the family moved to 
Boston, where Mr. Alcott undertook a private school. This was financially 
unsuccessful, and in 1840 he moved to Concord, Massachusetts. "These 
Concord days," writes his daughter, "were the happiest of my life, for we had 
charming playmates in the little Emersons, Channings, and Hawthornes, with 
their illustrious parents to enjoy our pranks and share our excursions." In 
1842 he undertook a communistic experiment at a farm near Concord, where 
several families were to live together in Arcadian simplicity, eating no meat, 
going to bed at sundown, and studying Transcendental philosophy. This soon 
came to an end, and brought Mr. Alcott to utter ruin and poverty. It was at 
this time that Louisa, although a mere child, began the noble and unselfish 



6/2 LOUISA M. ALCOTT. 

efforts to retrieve the family fortunes to which her whole life was devoted. 
When only fifteen she turned her thoughts to teaching, and for a short time had 
a little school in the barn for the children of Mr. Emerson and other neighbors. 
But her chief resource was her pen, which for several years she employed in 
writing largely for the " story papers," — a line of work which she followed only 
because it brought her money and was always open to her. Soon, however, 
her work began to be accepted by the Atlantic Jlfonth/y and other magazines of 
reputation ; and in 1861 she published her first book, called " Moods." It was 
a failure at the time, though it had a large sale when republished years after- 
ward, when her later books had made her name famous. During the war she 
went as a nurse to the hospitals near Washington, where she contracted a 
severe illness, from the effects of which she never entirely recovered. Her 
experiences were told in a volume entitled " Hospital Sketches," which was 
quite popular. Her most successful book, "Little Women," was published in 
1867, and made her position at once secure. The end for which she had 
struggled was attained, and her beloved parents and sisters assured of comfort 
for the future. 

But this great success only made her more busy. Following " Little 
Women" came in rapid succession "An Old-Fashioned Girl," "Little Men," 
"Work," and a long list of other stories. She had contracted the habit of 
working hard, and the great demand for all that she could write resulted in 
wearing out her strength. In the last years of her life her health was poor, 
though her bright and cheerful spirit shone clear and strong through sickness 
and health alike. She made two journeys to Europe, where her sister May 
(the "Amy" of "Little Women") lived, and who died there a year after her 
marriage. So strong was the habit of work in Miss Alcott that she hardly laid 
down her pen until the day of her death, which occurred in August, 1888. 

Miss Alcott made no pretense of being a poet, though she wrote much in 
verse ; but once, on the death of her beloved mother, the inspiration of the 
occasion produced the beautiful and pathetic poem, "Transfiguration," one of 
the finest of her works. A few years after her death was published her " Life, 
Letters, and Journals," one of the most charming of American books, and one 
which should be read by every one who has laughed and cried over her 
stories, and learned through them to admire and love the strong and noble 
woman who wrote them. 



fc. '■'•■■■,, ' y^i'i .'^Hi 




HORACE GREELEY. 




HORACE GREELEY, 

THE FOUNDER OK NIODERN JOURNALISM. 

HE men of whom we love to read are those who stand for 
some great principle, whose Hves and deeds exempUfy 
its power. When we think of patriotism, the figure of 
Washington rises before us, as the man whose Hfe, above 
all others, was controlled by pure love of country. Prac- 
tical wisdom, shrewdness, and thrift are embodied in Ben- 
jamin Franklin. Astor and Girard represent the power 
of accumulation ; Stewart, Carnegie, and Pullman, the 
power of organization ; and so, when we consider the 
power of the press, the image which comes up before our 
mental view is that of Horace Greeley. In almost every 
personal quality there have been men who far surpassed him, — men who were 
greater as politicians, as organizers, as statesmen, as speakers, as writers, — • 
but in the one respect of influencing public opinion through the press, of "mak- 
ing his mind the mind of other men," no man in America has ever wielded such 
power as the great editor and founder of the New York TiHbmie. 

Greeley is one of the most interesting and picturesque characters in our 
history. A strong individuality, a marked and peculiar personal flavor, charac- 
terized all his words and acts. Everything he said or did was said or done in 
the Greeley way, — a way which was known and recognized all over the United 
States. His political influence was incalculable. Thousands of men who had 
never seen him or heard his voice accepted his words as political gospel. W, D. 
Howells, writing of his own boyhood days, tells how the neighbors gathered 
in the country store when the Tribune was received, and, as it was opened with 
the words, "Well, let's see what old Horace says this week," listened with 
unquestioning assent. What a tremendous engine such a newspaper was can 
hardly be appreciated by those who did not live in the stirring times "before 
the war," and who knew not the Tribune and Greeley in the days of his power. 
Horace Greeley was one of the poor country boys who have afterward be- 
come the bone and sinew of the republic. He was born in Amherst, New 
Hampshire, in 1811. His father, Zaccheus Greeley, was a struggling farmer. He 

675 



676 HORACE GREELEY. 

moved to Vermont in 182 1, and a few years later to the western part of Penn- 
sylvania. Horace was a precocious child ; and his mother, Mary Woodburn, 
who was of Scotch-Irish stock, used to recite to him ballads and stories, so that 
he really acquired a taste for literature before the age at which many children 
conquer the alphabet. At the age of three he went to school — in bad weather 
havine to be carried on his father's shoulder ; but he had learned to read even 
before this, — sitting by his mother, with the book on her lap, while she sewed or 
knitted. The book was often misplaced, and the child learned to read with it 
sideways or upside-down, an accomplishment which came to his aid when he 
began to set type. For this business he possessed another natural qualification 
— he was a perfect prodigy at spelling. Such an excellent reputation did he 
obtain for correct scholarship and good conduct, that the school authorities in 
Bedford, which was beyond his legal district, passed a unanimous vote " that no 
pupils from other towns should be received into the school except Horace 
Greeley alone : " a most unusual compliment to a New Hampshire schoolboy. 

LEARNING THE PRINTER'S TRADE, 

In his fifteenth year Horace felt that he could endure farming no longer, 
and at last procured from his father a reluctant consent that he should definitely 
seek employment as a printer. He found the longed-for opportunity at East 
Poultney, Vermont, in the office of the NortJiei'ii Spectator. An agreement was 
made for Horace to remain as an apprentice until twenty years of age. All the 
money he received was forty dollars a year for clothing, and out of this it was 
quite certain he bought many books and very little else for himself Though he 
was frequently excessively fatigued after his day's work, he was never satisfied 
until he had spent some hours in study. His scanty wardrobe, unfashionable 
clothes, and generally 07itre appearance often excited derisive comment. His 
annual salary of forty dollars would have gone far in that place to enable him 
to make a presentable appearance had he spent it on himself but instead of this 
he sent nearly the whole of it to his father, who was ever in need of money. 

In 1830, before Horace's apprenticeship ended, the Spectator collapsed, 
and he was again set adrift. His father had removed to Western Pennsylvania, 
and the boy turned his face in that direction. After working for a few months 
on different country papers, he resolved to try his fortune in New York, and 
went to that city in August, 1831. 

Greeley was, on his first entrance in New York, about twenty years of age, 
tall, slim, pale, with flaxen locks and pale blue eyes. He always had a habit 
of wearing his hat on the back of his head, as if accustomed to star-gazing, 
which gave him, even late in life, a peculiarly "green " look. It is probable that 
he was still assisting his parents, for with his correct and temperate habits, there 
is no other reason why he should have come to the city without a respectable suit 



i 



EXPERIENCES IN NEW YORK. 



677 



of clothes, and with all his personal effects tied up in a handkerchief This 
sort of economy may be carried too far, as it was in his case ; preventino- him 
from getting a situation, which a more respectable appearing person might have 
obtained. David Hale, editor of the Journal of Commerce, to whom he applied 
for work, took him for a runaway apprentice, and plainly told him so. In his 
search for a boarding-house he met with a somewhat similar experience. At 
the first house where he applied, on Wall street, on asking the terms, the 
answer was, " Six dollars a week, but something cheaper will probably suit you 
better." And it did ; he wandered over to the north side, and found, he said, 
"the sien of 'Boarding-' on a 
humbler edifice ; I entered, and 
was offered shelter and subsist- 
ence for $2.50 per week, which 
seemed more rational, and I 
closed the bargain." 

After a most persistent 
search for work, Greeley at last 
found employment on a Polyglot 
Testament, which was so difficult 
and slow that most printers re- 
fused to work on it. By working 
twelve and fourteen hours daily, 
he managed to earn six dollars a 
week. For months he plodded 
along in this manner, not always 
having employment. In January, 
1832, he procured a situation on 
the Spirit of the Times, the fore- 
man of which, F. V. Story, after- 
ward became his partner. The 
young firm hired rooms on the 

corner of Nassau and Liberty streets. Their principal dependence was the 
printing of Sylvester's Bank-note Reporter. All the money invested by Greeley 
and Story was about $240, Mr. George Bruce, the type founder, granting them 
credit for some additional material. Mr. Story was drowned in June, 1833. 
Kis place in the business was supplied by Mr. Jonas Winchester, and early the 
next spring (March, 1834) Mr. Greeley commenced his first editorial work, the 
firm publishing a weekly paper called the Nezv Yorker, which lasted until the 
March of 1841, when it went under, with a credit on its books of $10,000 due 
to Mr. Greeley for editing the paper, all of which was sunk with the wreck. 
But the debts which the firm owed to others troubled him far more than what 




WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 



678 HORACE GREELEY. 

he lost in the concern himself. His expressions on this subject are pathetic in 
their intensity. "For my own part," he says, "and I speak from sad experi- 
ence, I would rather be a convict in State's prison, a slave in a rice-swamp, 
than to pass through life under the harrow of debt. If you have but fifty 
cents, and can get no more for a week, buy a peck of corn, parch it, and live 
on it, rather than owe any man a dollar." 

In the famous campaign of 1840, when Harrison was "sung and shouted 
into the presidential chair," Greeley started a small weekly called the Log 
Cabin. He threw all his spirit and energy into it ; he made it lively, crisp, and 
cheap. It attained an almost unheard-of success, reaching editions of eighty 
and ninety thousand. It was continued for several months after the triumphant 
election of Harrison, and then merged into the New York Tribune, which 
Greeley started at this time, the first issue appearing April 10, 1841. 

GREELEY AND THE "TRIBUNE." 

The new enterprise soon became successful. It was helped at the start by 
a bitter attack from the 82111, then in the hands of Moses Y. Beach. The de- 
fense and rejoinders were equally pungent and amusing. Mr. Greeley always 
throve best upon opposition. His spicy retorts, and especially his partisan en- 
thusiasm, forced the attention of the public, and the subscription-list of the 
Tribune soon rose from hundreds to thousands ; by the third week in Ma)' it had 
10,000 names on its books. New and more powerful presses had to be bought 
to work off these large editions. Advertisers came rushino- in, and it became 
absolutely necessary for the overwhelmed editor to seek a business partner. 
The Tribune office would soon have become a modern spectacle of chaos had 
not its financial affairs been taken in hand by a competent financier. This 
" good angel of the profit and loss account " was Mr. Thomas McElrath, through 
whose efficiency and good management was soon brought order out of confu- 
sion, making the " Tribune office not only one of the best conducted, but one 
of the best paying in the city." 

Greeley was now in his element. Political and social discussion were the 
breath of his nostrils ; and under his hand the Tribune quickly became the most 
interesting paper in the country, as well as the most powerful. Mr. Greeley 
was a very earnest and emphatic writer ; it was impossible to mistake his mean- 
ing ; he had positive opinions on all subjects upon which he touched. Hence 
he drew devoted followers and admirers on the one side, while exciting the most 
bitter opposition from the unconvinced. He was the most pugnacious of edit- 
ors, and was much stronger in a fight than when unopposed. 

One thing which undoubtedly tended to bring the Tribune into prominence 
was Greeley's tendency toward " isms." He always had something to say about 
new social, industrial, and religious theories, and was very apt to advocate them. 



SUCCESS OF THE " TRIE UN Er 



6;9 



In this direction he was much influenced by his wife, whom he had married in 
July, 1836. She was a lady deeply imbued with the ultra-transcendentalism of 
the period ; she was also a vegetarian, and in many respects held eccentric and 
unusual views. Horace Greeley was devoted to her. It was, perhaps, in a 
measure due to her influence that Mr. Greeley took up with such zeal the cause 
of Fourierism, be- ' 

comingr a devoted 
follower and ex- 
ponent of this 
theory for reor- 
ganizing society. 
Mrs. Greeley was 
one of those who 
joined in the 
" Brook Farm ex- 
periment," a de- 
velopment of 
Fourierism in 
Massachusetts, 
which was a rather 
ludicrous failure. 




One thing in 
particular gave 
the Tribune emi- 
nence ; that was 
Greeley's policy 
of employing as 
contributors the 
best writers of 
the time. To 
name all the able 
men and women 
who thus won 
fame for both 
themselves and 
the Tr ibune, 
would make a list 

too long to print ; but among them may be mendoned Bayard Taylor, whose 
"Views Afoot" first appeared in the form of letters to the Tribune ; Margaret 
Fuller, whose ardcles gave her a wide reputation ; George Ripley, Moncure D. 
Conway, Sydney Howard Gay, and George W. Smalley ; and for years Thomas 



WHITELAW REID, GREELEY'S SUCCESSOR AS EDITOR OF THE "TRIBUNE.' 



6So HORACE GREELEY. 

Hughes, the popular author of " Tom Brown at Oxford," sent frequent and 
able letters from London. The result of this liberal policy was to make the 
Tribune indispensable to people of intelligence, even though utterly opposed to 
its political views. 

In 1848, when General Zachary Taylor, "the hero of Buena Vista," was 
elected President, Greeley was chosen as member of Congress from New York 
city. He made no effort to secure the election, and when consulted by a 
fellow-candidate, Mr. Brooks, as to what should be done to accomplish it, he 
said to his messenger, "Tell Mr. Brooks that we have only to keep still, and 
General Taylor will carry us both in." Mr. Greeley's presence in Congress 
was soon felt. He discovered that it was the custom with members of Congress 
to charge "mileage " by long and circuitous routes from their homes to Wash- 
ington ; and he soon made one of the greatest newspaper " hits " of the time 
by publishing in the Tribune a complete statement of what each member 
would receive if his mileage were computed by the shortest mail route, along- 
side of the amount he actually did receive. It may be imagined that that issue 
of the paper had a large sale in Washington, and for some time there was a 
great deal of "rising to explain " by honorable members. Mr. Greeley also 
introduced a "Homestead bill," which years afterward became one of the 
most popular measures ever passed by Congress, but which then received not 
a single vote beside his own ! 

THE YEARS BEFORE THE WAR. 

But Greeley's strength was as a journalist, not as a legislator. At the 
close of his brief term he retired from Congress, and during the stormy decade 
preceding the civil war he made the Tribune a mighty power. He w^armly 
espoused the cause of freedom, and denounced the Fugitive Slave Law, the 
Kansas-Nebraska bill, and the endless aggressions of the slave power with a 
vigor and pertinacity which made him one of the best-hated men in America. 
His course was not always consistent ; and he often brought upon his head the 
wrath of friends as well as enemies. Moreover, in the conduct of a great daily 
paper much must be left to the judgment of subordinates ; and all their mis- 
takes were, of course, laid to the charge of their chief Many of the old readers" 
of the Tribune supposed that every line in the paper was actually written by 
Horace Greeley. He rarely took the trouble to justify or explain ; and there- 
fore, while in one sense one of the best known men in the country, he was one 
of the most misunderstood. Mr. Greeley had no time or thought for personal 
explanations ; he was bent upon saving the country, — individuals could take 
care of themselves. 

During the war Mr. Greelev's course was somewhat erratic and unstable. 
The Tribune had been considered in the South an " Abolition " paper ; Mr. 



HIS COURSE DURING THE WAR. 



68 1 



Greeley had condemned all the preliminary movements of the secessionists, and 
had come very near demanding the impeachment of President Buchanan. Just 
at the crisis, when every word from an influential source was potent to turn the 
scale for good or evil, Greeley astounded and dismayed the loyal, and put a 
ready weapon into the hand of secession, by his ill-timed, ill-considered article, 
" Let the South Go ! " The advocates of secession were triumphant, and con- 
cluded that if the Tribune was willing to "Let the erring sisters go in peace," 
other people might be depended upon to acquiesce. The immediate result of 
that article was to cause fifty Southern officers in New York to vote that they 
" resign their commissions in the 
United States army and join their 
brethren in the South." But no 
sooner had these men taken his 
advice, and the " erring sisters " 
attempted to "go," than the Tri- 
bune was the first to try to pull 
them forcibly back again. 

Before the administration was 
ready with its plans, before the 
Union army was drilled or properly 
organized, Mr. Greeley broke out 
with his famous war-cry, "On to 
Richmond ! " which undoubtedly 
did much to precipitate the disaster 
of Bull Run. Then, when the 
Union cause looked dark, " de- 
spairing of the republic," he rushed 
to Canada to discuss, unauthorized, 
with Confederate envoys, terms for 
a treaty of peace disgraceful and 
injurious to the United States ; yet 
all this time the Tribune flourished. 
After the war closed it received another shock, when one morning its readers 
learned that its senior editor had gone to Richmond to offer bail for Jefferson 
Davis. Mr. Greeley afterward justified his action with much force ; but at the 
time it seemed utterly unaccountable. Throughout all these tergiversations, 
however, he kept a hold upon a large class of readers who believed in him, to 
whom he was a mental and moral lawgiver, who refused to believe any evil 
of him ; and, if some visitor to the city — for a large proportion of Triburie 
readers were country, and particularly Western, people — on coming back, 
reported that in an interview with Mr. Greeley the editor had indulged in 




JEFFERSON PAVIS. 



682 



HORACE GREELEY. 



unlimited profanity, the unlucky individual was incontinently discredited and 
voted a calumniator. 

In the years following the war, Greeley's pen was more busy than ever. 
Beside his editorial writing in the Tribune, he prepared the second volume of 




"-v^ ^-^-' 






GREENWOOD CEMETERY. 



his war history, "The American Conflict," and his delightful autobiography, 
"Recollections of a Busy Life." He was always intensely interested in the 
growth of the West, where he had made a memorable tour in 1859, e.xtending 
to Salt Lake City ; and now he unceasingly advocated western emigration. 
His terse advice, "Go West, young man, and grow up with the country," 



THE CAMPAIGN OF 1872. 683 

became a sort of national watchword, and many thousands of eastern people 
resolved to turn their faces toward the empire of the West. 

In 1872 a curious political combination was made. Probably such a sur- 
prise was never sprung upon the country as the nomination of Horace Greeley 
for the Presidency, by a convention of "Liberal Republicans" and bolting 
Democrats. That he should be defeated at the polls was inevitable. Strange 
to say, his experience as an editor, his own denunciations of political opponents, 
had not prepared him for the bitter attacks which were made upon him. He 
could not digest the ridicule of the caricaturists, who, it is safe to say, never 
before had such a tempting opportunity. He worked hard through the canvass, 
traveling and addressing meetings ; body and mind suffered from the fatigue 
and excitement. To add to his troubles, Mrs. Greeley, who had been out of 
health for a considerable time, died at this period ; he watched over her day 
and night, obtaining very little sleep, and altogether the burden became too 
great for him to bear. His health gave way ; he became unable to sleep ; 
and sleeplessness was followed by inflammation of the brain, which soon ended 
his life. Everything which medical skill and attention, with the loving care of 
his two devoted daughters, could do, was done ; but all was unavailing. A 
short time before his death, the terrible delirium incident to his disease sub- 
sided, and he became himself once more. After some hours of calm and 
serene rest, with his faculties restored, he passed quietly away, repeating the 
sublime words of Job, "I know that my Redeemer liveth." 

Horace Greeley sleeps in Greenwood Cemetery, Long Island, on a hill over- 
looking the beautiful bay of New York, and within sight of the great city where 
his busy life was spent. In the centre of the plot stands a granite pedestal, on 
which is a portrait bust of heroic size, showing the upper part of his figure, in 
the historic white overcoat, with the front thrown back, exposing to view the 
inner pocket, filled with letters and papers. This monument was erected by 
the printers of New York, the bust and the two tablets on the sides of the 
pedestal being of type metal. On one of the tablets is the figure of a young 
man setting type, his " stick" in his left hand, the right resting on the "case." 
On the other tablet is the inscription : — 

HORACE GREELEY. 



Born February 3d, 1811. 
Died November 29th, 1872. 



Founder of the New York Tribune. 




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HARRIET BEECHER STOWE, 

AUTHOR OK THE MOST POPULA.R AIvIERICAN NOVEL. 

EW names are more indelibly written upon our country's 

history than that of Harriet Beecher Stowe. " No book," 

says George William Curtis, " was ever more a historical 

event than ' Uncle Tom's Cabin.' ... It is the ereat 

happiness of Mrs. Stowe not only to have written many 

delightful books, but to have written one book which will 

always be famous not only as the most vivid picture of 

an extinct evil system, but as one of the most powerful 

influences in overthrowing it. . . . If all whom she has 

charmed and quickened should unite to sing her praises, the 

birds of summer would be outdone." 

Harriet Beecher Stowe was the sixth child of Reverend 
Lyman Beecher, — the great head of that great family which has 
left so deep an impress upon the heart and mind of the American people. She 
was born in Litchfield, Connecticut, in June, 1811, — just two years before her 
next younger brother, Henry Ward Beecher. Her father was pastor of the 
Congregational Church in Litchfield, and her girlhood was passed there and at 
Hartford, where she attended the excellent seminary kept by her elder sister, 
Catharine E. Beecher. In 1832 her father accepted a call to the presidency of 
Lane Theological Seminary, at Cincinnati, and moved thither with his family. 
Catharine Beecher went also, and established there a new school, under the 
name of the Western Female Institute, in which Harriet assisted. 

In 1833 Mrs. Stowe first had the subject of slavery brought to her personal 
notice by taking a trip across the river from Cincinnati into Kentucky in company 
with Miss Dutton, one of the associate teachers in the Western Institute. They 
visited the estate that afterward figured as that of Mr. Shelby, in " Uncle Tom's 
Cabin," and here the young authoress first came into personal contact with the 
slaves of the South. In speaking, many years afterward, of this visit, Miss 
Dutton said : " Harriet did not seem to notice anything in particular that hap- 
pened, but sat much of the time as though abstracted in thought. When the 
negroes did funny things, and cut up capers, she did not seem to pay the 

687 



688 



HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. 



slightest attention to them. Afterward, however, in reading- ' Uncle Tom,' I 
recognized scene after scene of that visit portrayed v.^ith the most minute 
fidelity, and knew at once where the material for that portion of the story had 
been gathered." 

Harriet Beecher's life in Cincinnati was such as to bring out all that was 
best and noblest in her character. Where her father's family was, she could not 
lack good society, for all that was best intellectually and socially always gath- 




NKGRO VILLAGE IN GEORGIA. 



ered naturally around that centre. Among the professors in Lane Seminary 
was Calvin E. Stowe, whose wife, a dear friend of Miss Beecher, died soon 
after Dr. Beecher's removal to Cincinnati. In 1836 Professor Stowe and Har- 
riet Beecher were married. They were admirably suited to each other. Pro- 
fessor Stowe was a typical man of letters, — a learned, amiable, unpractical 
philosopher, whose philosophy was like that described by Shakespeare as "an 
excellent horse in the stable, but an arrant jade on a journey." Her practical 



SECURING A SLAVE'S FREEDOM. 689 

ability and cheerful, inspiring courage were the unfailing support of her hus- 
band. Soon after their marriage he sailed for Europe to purchase books for 
Lane Seminary, and in a characteristic letter given to him at parting, not to be 
opened until he was at sea. she charges him, "Set your face Hke a flint against 
the 'cultivation of indigo,' as Elizabeth calls it, in any way or shape. . . . 
Seriously, dear one, you must give more way to hope than to memory. You 
are going to a new scene now, and one that I hope will be full of enjoyment to 
you. I want you to take the good of it." 

In 1839 Mrs. Stowe received into her family as a servant a colored girl from 
Kentucky. By the laws of Ohio she was free, having been brought into the 
State and left there by her mistress. In spite of this. Professor Stowe received 
word, after she had lived with them some months, that the eirl's master was in 
the city looking for her, and that if she were not careful she would be seized 
and taken back into slavery. Finding that this could be accomplished by bold- 
ness, perjury, and the connivance of some unscrupulous justice of the peace, 
Professor Stowe determined to remove the girl to some place of security where 
she might remain until the search for her should be given up. Accordingly, he 
and his brother-in-law, Henry Ward Beecher, both armed, drove the fugitive, in 
a covered wagon, at night, by unfrequented roads, twelve miles back into the 
country, and left her in safety with the family of old John Van Zandt, the fugi- 
tive's friend. 

It is from this incident of real life and personal experience that Mrs. Stowe 
conceived the thrilling episode of Eliza's escape from Tom Loker and Marks, in 
"Uncle Tom's Cabin." 

In the spring of 1832 Mrs. .Stowe visited Hartford, taking her six-year-old 
daughter Hatty with her. In writing from there to her husband she confides 
some of her literary plans and aspirations to him, and he answers : — 

" My dear, you must be a literary woman. It is so written in the book of 
fate. Make all your calculations accordingly. Get up a good stock of health, 
and brush up your mind. Drop the E out of your name. It only encumbers it 
and interferes with the flow and euphony. Write yourself fully and always 
Harriet Beecher Stowe, which is a name euphonious, flowing, and full of mean- 
ing. Then, my word for it, your husband will lift up his head in the gates, and 
your children will rise up and call you blessed." 

The letter closes with a characteristic appeal : — 

"And now, my dear wife, I want you to come home as quick as you can. The fact is I can- 
not live without you, and if we were not so prodigious poor I would come for you at once. There is 
no woman like you in this wide world. Who else has so much talent, with so little self-conceit; 
so much reputation, with so little affectation ; so much literature with so little nonsense, so much 
enterprise with so little extravagance, so much tongue with so little scold, so much sweetness with so 
little softness, so much of so many things and so little of so many other things? " 
4.1 



690 HARRIET BEECH ER STOWE. 

That Professor Stowe's devoted admiration for his wife was reciprocated, 
and that a most perfect sympathy of feehng existed between the husband and 
wife, is shown by a hne in one of Mrs. Stowe's letters from Hartford, in which 
she says : " I was telling Belle yesterday that I did not know till 1 came away 
how much I was dependent upon you for information. There are a thousand 
favorite subjects on which I could talk with you better than with any one else. 
If you were not already my dearly loved husband I should certainly fall in love 
with you." 

The years from 1845 to 1850 were a time of severe trial to Mrs. Stowe. 
She and her husband both suffered from ill health, and the family was separated. 
Professor Stowe was struggling with poverty, and endeavoring at the same lime 
to lift the Theological Seminary out of financial difficulties. In 1849, while Pro- 
fessor Stowe was ill at a water-cure establishment in Vermont, their youngest 
child died of cholera, which was then raging in Cincinnati. In 1850 it was 
decided to remove to Brunswick, Maine, the seat of Bowdoin College, where 
Professor Stowe was offered a position ; and in April Mrs. Stowe, with three 
of her five children, started on the long and toilsome journey, leaying her hus- 
band with the other two to follow a few months later. Their household goods 
were shipped at the same time, and Mrs. Stowe, under the pressure of poverty 
and in delicate health, undertook all the labor and responsibility of establishing 
their new home. Early in the summer her husband joined her, and in July 
her son Charles was born. In a letter written about this time she says : — 

" Sarah, when I look back, I wonder at myself, not that I forget any one thing that I should 
remember, but that I have remembered anything. From the time that I left Cincinnati with my 
children to come forth to a country that I knew not of, almost to the present time, it seemed as if 
I could scarcely breathe, I was so pressed with care. My head dizzy with the whirl of railroads and 
steamboats; then ten days' sojourn in Boston, and a constant toil and hurry in buying my furniture 
and equipments ; then landing in Brunswick in the midst of a drizzly, inexorable northeast storm, 
and beginning the work of getting in order a deserted, dreary, damp old house. . . . 

" Then comes a letter from my husband saying he is sick abed, and all but dead ; don't ever 
expect to see his family again ; wants to know how I shall manage in case I am left a widow ; knows 
we shall get in debt and never get out ; wonders at my courage, thinks I am very sanguine, wants 
me to be prudent, as there won't be much to live on in case of his death, etc.. etc., etc. I read 
the letter and poke it into the stove, and proceed.". . . 

Few women under such circumstances would think of undertaking literary 
work ; yet it was in the midst of these events that the great work of Mrs. 
Stowe's life began to take definite shape in her mind. 

The year 1850 is memorable in the history of the conflict with slavery. It 
was the year of Clay's compromise measures, as they were called, which sought 
to satisfy the North by the admission of California as a free State, and to pro- 
pitiate the South by the notorious " Fugitive Slave Law." The slave power 
was at its height, and seemed to hold all things under its feet ; yet in truth it 



THE ORIGIN OF "UNCLE TOM'S CABIN" 691 

had entered upon the last stage of its existence, and the forces were fast 
gathering for its final overthrow. 

EFFECTS OF THE FUGITIVE SLAVE LAW. 

After the passage of the Fugitive Slave Act, letter after letter was received 
by Mrs. Stowe, in Brunswick, from Mrs. Edward Beecher and other friends, 
describing the heart-rending scenes which were the inevitable results of the 
enforcement of this terrible law. Cides were more available for capturing 
escaped slaves than the country, and Boston, which claimed the "cradle of 
liberty," Faneuil Hall, opened her doors to the slave-hunters. The sorrow and 
anguish caused thereby no pen could describe. Families of colored people were 
broken up. Some hid in garrets and cellars. Some fled to the wharves and 
embarked in ships and sailed for Europe. Others went to Canada. One poor 
fellow, who was doing good business as a crockery merchant, and supportino- 
his family well, when he got notice that his master, whom he had left many 
years before, was after him, set out for Canada in midwinter on foot, as he did 
not dare to take a public conveyance. He froze both feet on the journey, and 
they had to be amputated. Mrs. Edward Beecher, in a letter to Mrs. Stowe's 
son, writing of this period, says: — 

" I had been nourishing an anti-slavery spirit since Lovejoy was murdered for publishing in 
his paper articles against slavery and intemperance, when our home was in Illinois. These terrible 
things which were going on in Boston were well calculated to rouse up this spirit. What can I do? 
I thought. Not much myself, Taut I know one who can. So I wrote several letters to your mother, 
telling her of various heart-rending events caused by the enforcement of the Fugitive Slave Law. 
I remember distinctly saying in one of them, ' Now, Hattie, if I could use a pen as you can, I 
would write something that would make this whole nation feci what an accursed thing slavery is.' 

" When we lived in Boston your mother often visited us. . . . Several numbers of ' Uncle 
Tom's Cabin ' were written in your Uncle Edward's study at these times and read to us from 
manuscripts." 

A member of Mrs. Stowe's family well remembers the scene in the little 
parlor in Brunswick when the letter alluded to was received. Mrs. Stowe her- 
self read it aloud to the assembled family, and when she came to the passage, 
" I would write something that would make this whole nation feel what an 
accursed thing slavery is," Mrs. Stowe rose from her chair, crushing the letter 
in her hand, and with an expression on her face that stamped itself on the mind 
of her child, said : " I will wnte something. I will, if I live." 

This was the origin of "'Uncle Tom's Cabin." Professor Cairnes and 
others said truly, " The Fugitive Slave Law has been to the slave power a 
questionable gain. Among its first fruits was ' Uncle Tom's Cabin.' " 

It was in the month of February after these words were written that Mrs. 
Stowe was seated at the communion service in the college church at Brunswick. 
Suddenly, like the unrolling of a picture, the scene of the death of Uncle Tom 



692 



HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. 



passed before her mind. So strongly was she affected that it was with difficulty 
she could keep from weeping aloud. Immediately on returning home she took 
pen and paper and wrote out the vision which had been as it were blown into 
her mind "as by the rushing of a mighty wind." Gathering her little family 
about her, she read what she had written. Her two little ones of ten and twelve 
years of age broke into convulsions of weeping, one of them saying through his 
sobs, " Oh, mamma ! slavery is the most cruel thing in the world." Thus 
"Uncle Tom" was ushered into the world. It was a cry, an immediate, invol- 
untary expression of deep, impas- 
sioned feeling. 

Twenty-five years afterward 
Mrs. Stowe wrote, in a letter to 
one of her children, of this period 
of her life : " I well remember the 
winter you were a baby, and I was 
writing ' Uncle Tom's Cabin.' My 
heart was bursting with the anguish 
excited by the cruelty and injustice 
our nation was showing to the slave, 
and praying God to let me do a 
little, and to cause my cry for them 
to be heard. I remember many a 
night weeping over you as you lay 
sleeping beside me, and thought 
of the slave mothers whose babes 
were torn from them." 

The story was begun as a 
serial in the National Era, June 5, 
1 85 1, and was announced to run for 
about three months, but it was not 
completed in that paper until April 
I, 1852. It had been contemplated 
as a mere itiagazine tale of perhaps a dozen chapters, but once begun it could 
no more' be controlled than the waters of the swollen Mississippi, bursting 
through a crevasse in its levees. The intense interest e.xcited by the story, the 
demands made upon the author for more facts, the unmeasured words of 
encouragement to keep on in her good work that poured in from all sides, and, 
above all, the ever-growing conviction that .she had been intrusted with a great 
and holy mission, compelled her to keep on until the humble tale had assumed 
the proportions of a large volume. Mrs. Stowe repeatedly said, "I could not 
control the story, it wrote itself; " and, " I the author of ' Uncle Tom's Cabin ' ? 




JOHN BROWN, WHO WAS HANGED IN 1859 FOR AN ATTEMIT 
TO LIBERATE THE SLAVES. 



J. . 



PRAISE AND ABUSE. 693 

No, indeed. The Lord himself wrote it, and I was but the humblest of instru- 
ments in his hand. To him alone should be given all the praise." 

For the story as a serial the author received ^^300. In the meantime, how- 
ever, it had attracted the attention of Mr. John P. Jewett. a Boston publisher, 
who promptly made overtures for its publication in book form. He offered Mr. 
and Mrs. Stowe a half share in the profits, provided they would share with him 
the expense of publication. This was refused by the Professor, who said he 
was altogether too poor to assume any such risk ; and the agreement finally 
made was that the author should receive a ten per cent, royalty upon all sales. 

SUCCESS OF "UNCLE TOM's CABIN." 

In the meantime the fears of the author as to whether or not her book 
would be read were quickly dispelled. Three thousand copies were sold the 
very first day, a second edition was issued the following week, a third a few 
days later ; and within a year one hundred and twenty editions, or over three 
hundred thousand copies, of the book had been issued and sold in this country. 
Almost in a day the poor professor's wife had become the most talked-of woman 
in the world ; her influence for good was spreading to its remotest corners, and 
henceforth she was to be a public character, whose every movement would be 
watched with interest, and whose every word would be quoted. The long, 
weary struggle with poverty was to be hers no longer ; for, in seeking to aid 
the oppressed, she had also so aided herself that within four months from the 
time her book was published it had yielded her $10,000 in royalties. 

The poet Whittier wrote at this time to William Lloyd Garrison : — 

" What a glorious work Harriet Beecher Stowe has wrought. Thanks for the Fugitive Slave 
Law ! Better would it be for slavery if that law had never been enacted ; for it gave occasion for 
'Uncle Tom's Cabin.' " 

Garrison wrote to Mrs. Stowe : — 

" I estimate the value of anti-slavery writing by the abuse it brings. Now all the defenders 
of slavery have let me alone and are abusing you." 

It is true that with congratulatory and commendatory letters came hosts of 
others, threatening and insulting, from the Haleys and the Legrees of the 
country. Of them Mrs. Stowe said : " They are so curiously compounded of 
blasphemy, cruelty, and obscenity that their like could only be expressed by 
John Bunyan's account of the speech of Apollyon : ' He spake as a dragon.' " 

The feeling toward the book in the South is well described in a letter 
written by Mrs. Stowe to the Earl of Shaftesbury : — 

" There is nothing that Southern political leaders and capitalists so dread as anti-slavery feel- 
ing am.ong themselves. All the force of lynch law is employed to smother discussion and blind 
conscience on this question. The question is not allowed to be discussed, and he who sells a book 
o* publishes a tract makes himself liable to fine and imprisonment. 



694 



HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. 



" My book is, therefore, as much under an interdict in some parts of the South as the Bible is 
in Italy. It is not allowed in the bookstores, and the greater part of the people hear of it and mp 
only through grossly caricatured representations in the papers, with garbled extracts from the book. 

" A cousin residing in Georgia this winter says that the prejudice against my name is so strong 
that she dares not have it appear on the outside of her letters, and that very amiable and excellent 
people have asked her if such as I could be received into reputable society at the North." 

The popularity of " Uncle Tom's Cabin " abroad was as remarkable as its 
success at home. A statement made by Clarke & Company, who published the 
first English edition, is as follows :— 

" An early copy was sent from America in April to Mr. Bogue, the publisher, and was offered 
by him to Mr. Gilpin, late of Bishopsgate street. Being declined by Mr. Gilpin, Mr. Bogue offered 




A NEW ENGLAND COTTON MILL OF MRS. STOWF.'S TIME. 



it to Mr. Henry Vizetelly, and by the latter gentleman it was eventually purchased for us. Before 
printing it, however, as there was one night allowed for decision, one volume was taken home to be 
read by Mr. Vizetelly. and the other by Mr. Salisbury, the printer, of Bouverie street. The report of 
the latter gentleman the following morning, to quote his own words, was: ' I sat up till four in the 
morning reading the book, and the interest I felt in it was expressed one moment by laughter and 
another by tears. Thinking it might be weakness and not the powder of the author that affected me, 
1 resolved to try the effect on my wife fa rather strong-minded woman). 1 accordingly woke her and 
read a few chapters to her. Finding that her interest in the story kept her awake, and that she, too, 
laughed and cried, I settled in my mind that it was a book that ought to, and might with safety, be 
printed.' 

"Mr. Vizetelly's opinion coincided with that of Mr. Salisbury, and to the latter gentleman 



HER NUMEROUS BOOKS. 



695 



it was confided, to be brought out immediately. The week following the book was produced, and 
one edition of 7000 copies worked off. It made no stir until the middle of June, although we 
advertised it very extensively. From June it began to make its way, and it sold at the rate of 1000 
per week during July. In August the demand became very great, and went on increasing to the 
20th, by which time it was perfectly overwhelming. We have now about four hundred people 
employed in getting out the book, and seventeen printing machines, besides hand presses. Already 
about 150,000 copies of the book are in the hands of the people, and still the returns of the sales 
show no decline." 

In 1852 Professor Stowe received a call to the professorship of Sacred 
Literature in Andover Theological Seminary, and the family soon removed to 
their Massachusetts home. They were now relieved from financial pressure ; 
but Mrs. Stowe's hfalth was still delicate ; and in 1853 she went with her hus- 
band and brother to England, where she received, much to her surprise, a uni- 
versal welcome. She made many friends among the most distinguished people 
in Great Britain, and on the continent as well. On her return she wrote the 
" Key to Uncle Tom's Cabin," and began " Dred, a Tale of the Dismal Swamp." 
In fact, her literary career was just beginning. With " Uncle Tom's Cabin " her 
powers seemed only to be fairly awakened. One work after another came in 
quick succession. For nearly thirty years after the publication of " Uncle 
Tom," her pen was never idle. In 1854 she published "Sunny Memories of 
Foreign Lands," and then, in rapid succession, "The Minister's Wooing," "The 
Pearl of Orr's Island," "Agnes of Sorrento," "House and Home Papers," 
" Little Foxes," and " Oldtown Folks." These, however, are but a small part of 
her works. Besides more than thirty books, she has written magazine articles, 
short stories, and sketches almost without number. She has entertained, 
instructed, and inspired a generation born long after the last slave was made 
free, and to whom the great question which once convulsed our country is only 
a name. But her first great work has never been surpassed, and it will never 
be forgotten. The evil system which produced the story has long since passed 
away ; but " Uncle Tom " still lives in immortal youth. Our hearts still tremble 
for Eliza and her child ; they exult over George Harris's defense ; they burn at 
the words of St. Clare, and they sink within us at Uncle Tom's death. Who can 
read unmoved the story of Cassy's life, or of poor Topsy hiding away in her 
bosom the keepsake of her lost Eva ? And what man but can understand the 
feelings of George Shelby, when, kneeling by the new-made grave of Uncle 
Tom, he says, " Witness, eternal God, that from this hour I will do what one 
man can to drive this curse of slavery from my land ! " 

After the war which accomplished the abolition of slavery, Mrs. Stowe lived 
in Hartford, Connecticut, in summer, and spent the winters in Florida, where 
she bought a luxurious home. Her pen was hardly ever idle ; and the popu- 
larity of her works seemed to steadily increase. 

I'he most noteworthy event of Mrs. Stowe's later years was the celebra- 



696 HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. 

tion of her seventieth birthday, on June 14, 1882. Her publishers, Houghton, 
Mifflin & Co., arranged a reception for her in the form of a garden party at 
the "Old Elms," the home of ex-Governor Claflin of Massachusetts, in one of 
Boston's most beautiful suburbs. The assembly gathered to do honor to Mrs. 
Stowe that lovely June afternoon comprised two hundred of the most distin- 
guished and best known among the literary men and women of the day. 

As the guests arrived they were presented to Mrs. Stowe by Mr. H. O. 
Houghton, and then they gathered in groups in the parlors, on the verandas, 
on the lawn, and in the refreshment room. At five o'clock they assembled in 
the large tent on the lawn, when Mr. Houghton, as host, addressed to his guest 
and her friends a few words of congratulation and welconi^. 

Poems written for the occasion by John G. Whittier, Dr. O. W. Holmes, 
Mrs. A. D. T. Whitne)-, Miss Elizabeth Stuart Phelps, Mr. J. T. Trowbridge, 
Mrs. Allen (Mrs. Stowe's daughter), Mrs. Annie Fields, and Miss Charlotte F. 
Bates were also read, and speeches were made by Judge Albion \V. Tourgee 
and others prominent in the literary world. 

Letters from many noted people who were prevented from being present 
were read or placed in Mrs. Stowe's hands. The exercises were closed by a 
few words from Mrs. Stowe herself As she came to the front of the platform 
the whole company rose, and remained standing until she had finished. Her 
address was brief and simple, — a few words of thanksgiving for the great work 
wrought by God's hand in the abolition of slavery, and of loving trust that "all 
things work together for good." " If any of you have doubt, or sorrow, or pain, 
if you doubt about this world, just remember what God has done ; just remem- 
ber that this great sorrow of slavery has gone, gone by forever. . . . Let us 
never doubt. Everything that ought to happen is going to happen." 

The last stanza of Whittier's beautiful poem may fittingly close this brief 

sketch : — 

" Ah, dearer than the praise that stirs 
The air to-day, our love is hers ! 
She needs no guaranty of fame 
Whose own is linked with Freedom's name. 
Long ages after ours shall keep 
Her memory living while we sleep ; 
The waves that wa.sh our gray coast lines, 
The winds that rock the Southern pines. 
Shall sing of her ; the unending years 
Shall tell her tale in unborn ears. 
And when, with sins and follies past. 
Are numbered color-hate and caste. 
White, black, and red shall own as one 
The noblest work by woman done." 



POLITICAL GIANTS OF THE PRESENT DAY. 



BY EDWARD S. ELLIS, A.M., 
Author of ''Standard History of the Vtiited Slates/ 



BENJAMIN HARRISON. 

SOLDIER, ORATOR AND STATESMAN. 

When General William 
Henry Harrison, the hero 
of Tippecanoe and of more 
than one important battle of 
the war of 1812, succumbed 
to the torments which beset 
every President of the United 
States, and suddenly died one 
month after his inauguration, 
he left a grrandson named 
Benjamin, not quite eight 
years old, who was the third 
son of John Scott Harrison, 
and was born at North Bend, 
Ohio, August 20, 1833. His 
father was the owner of a 
large farm, where the son 
toiled while a boy, and laid 
the foundation of the rugged 
health and strength which 
stood him so well in after 
years. 

The first school which 
Benjamin Harrison attended 
was kept in a log building, 

where, so far as is known, he was neither a dull nor an unusually bright pupil. 
It may have been too early in life for him to display the ability which afterward 

697 




BENJAMIN HARRISON. 



698 BENJAMIN HARRISON. 

carried him to the liighest office in the crift of liis countrymen. He was for- 
tunate in leaving a sensible parent, who, knowing tlie value of education, sent 
him at the age of fifteen to Farmers' (now Belmont) College, near Cincinnati. 
He remained two years and then became a student at Miami University, Oxford, 
where he attracted attention by his skill as a debater and orator. 

While a law student, he made the acquaintance of Miss Caroline L. Scott, 
a most estimable young woman, and daughter of the president of the University. 
The two formed a strong, mutual attachment, and were married in 1853, before 
Harrison had attained his majority. He was graduated in 1852, fourth in his 
class. 

He entered the law office of Storer & Gwynne, and shortly after was 
admitted to the bar. Moving to Indianapolis in the following year, he began 
to practice, and has made that city his home ever since. Clients were not 
numerous nor were fees large, but those who employed young Harrison found 
him conscientious, devoted to their interests, and possessed of sterling integrity 
and marked ability. He was prompt and kept his promises. A lawyer of that 
kind is sure to succeed. 

In 1855, he entered into partnership with William Wallace, but six years 
later that gentleman was elected county clerk and Harrison associated himself 
with W. P. Fishback. When fairly started upon what was a most promising 
career, his patriotism led him into the military service of his country, where he 
made a fine record. He was mustered in as Second Lieutenant, July 14, 1862, 
as Captain eight days later, and then, August 7th, as Colonel of the 70th 
regiment of infantry, the term of enlistment being for three years. He 
commanded his regiment until the 20th of August, 1863 ; the second brigade 
of the third division, reserve corps, until September 20, 1863 ; his regiment 
again to January 9, 1864, and the first brigade, third division, 20th army corps, 
to .September 23, 1864, on which date he was detailed for special duty in 
Indiana. Returning to duty in the field, he was ordered in November, 1864, 
to report in person to the general commanding at Nashville, Tenn. He 
afterward commanded the ist brigade, provisional division, Army of the 
Cumberland, to January 16, 1865, when upon his own request, he was relieved 
and directed to rejoin his command, which was then at Savannah, Georgia, 
under General Sherman. On his way thither, he was stricken with what 
threatened to be a fatal illness, but, rallying, he pressed on. He was not 
yet fully recovered and was placed in command of the camp for convalescents 
and recruits at Blair's Landing, South Carolina. He soon after joined General 
Sherman at Raleigh, where he resumed command of the ist brigade, 3d 
division, 20th army corps. April 21, 1865, and was relieved therefrom June 8th, 
because of the mustering out of the troops composing it. On the same day 
he was mustered out and honorably discharged. 



i 



BENJAMIN HARRISON. 699 

As we have said, General Harrison made a most creditable record in the 
field. "Little Ben " quickly won the reputation of being a brave man and a 
skilful leader. He was very popular with his own men and with the general 
officers. His regiment had no superior in effectiveness and discipline. He 
was in action at Russelville, Kentucky, and in the numerous severe engage- 
ments of the Atlanta campaign, and was present at the surrender of General 
Jo Johnston, at Durham's Station, North Carolina, April 26, 1865. Fighting 
Jo Hooker considered Harrison without a superior as a regimental and brigade 
commander, and it was at his request that, January 23, 1865, he was breveted 
brigadier general of volunteers, " for ability and manifest energy and gallantry 
in command of a brigade." 

He had already won a fine reputation as a lawyer in Indianapolis. He 
was elected in i860, reporter of the Supreme Court, but the office was vacated 
by his enlistment. He was overwhelmingly re-elected in 1864, while absent 
in the field. At the close of the term, he had a lucrative practice, and was 
retained in nearly all the important cases in his State. In 1876, Godlove S. 
Orth, Republican candidate for Governor, withdrew during the canvass and 
Harrison's name was substituted without consultation with him and while he 
was absent from the State. He made a plucky fight, but Governor Hendricks' 
popularity was too great to be overcome. 

In 1880, Harrison was chairman of the Indiana delegation in the convention 
which nominated James A. Garfield for the presidency. A strong pressure was 
brought to bear upon him to permit his name to be presented but he refused. 
His splendid work and his great ability led Garfield to offer him a place in his 
Cabinet, which he declined. He was chosen United States Senator in 1881 and 
served for si.x years, during which he took rank among the foremost debaters 
and leaders. 

In the Chicago presidential convention in 1888, Harrison was nominated 
on the eighth ballot. During that memorable campaign, he made ninety-four 
speeches, all of which were forceful, effective and beyond criticism even by his 
enemies. His most extraordinary achievement, however, was after his election 
to the presidency. Leaving Washington, April 1 5th, he made a journey of 10,000 
miles to and from the Pacific coast, returning exactly one month later. On that 
journey, he made one hundred and forty addresses, some of them on five 
minutes' notice. His audiences at times included old Confederates, colored 
men and representatives of nearly every grade of society. He was taken with- 
out warning to institutions of learning, before the blind, the educated, and was 
brought face to face with those who had seldom seen the inside of institutions 
of learning. In none of his numerous addresses did President Harrison repeat 
himself Each speech was in exquisite taste, often rising to heights of genuine 
eloquence. The most prominent newspaper which opposed his election de- 



700 GROVER CLEVELAND. 

clared that President Harrison has never had a superior, if indeed an equal, as 
an effective off-hand speaker. 

His administration was worthy and dignified, and though his Cabinet con- 
tained the brilHant Blaine, yet Harrison was President at all times and his 
influence was felt in every department. Above all things, he was a patriot and 
an American under all circumstances. His renomination at Minneapolis was to 
be expected, but the desire for a change throughout the country, rather than 
any distrust of the President or disfavor with his work, led to his defeat by 
Grover Cleveland. A few days before election Mrs. Harrison died, after a long 
and painful illness. The lives of the two had been an ideal one, and no couple 
ever were more tenderly attached to each other. 

After his retirement from the presidency, General Harrison was engaged 
by the late Senator Leland Stanford of California to deliver a course of lectures 
before the University he had founded, upon constitutional law. His practice 
expanded and he easily took rank among the ablest and most successful coun- 
sellors in the country. He was prominently mentioned as a presidential candi- 
date, as President Cleveland's term drew to a close, the conviction being 
general among the Republicans that, with his past record and his great ability, 
he was certain of success in the struggle of 1896. The nomination, however, 
seemed to be a matter of indifference to General Harrison and in F"ebruary, 
1896, he made public his decision not to be a candidate. In January, 1896, he 
announced his eniiajiement to Mrs. Dimmick, a niece of the late Mrs. Harrison. 



GROVER CLEVELAND. 

SUCCESSFUL LAWYER, GOVERNOR AND PRESIDENT. 

Grover Cleveland, twenty-second and twenty-fourth President of the 
United States, was born in the village of Caldwell, Essex County, New Jersey, 
March 18, 1837. He was the son of Richard Falley Cleveland, a Presbyterian 
minister, who was graduated at Yale in 1824, and five years later married Annie 
Neal, daughter of a Baltimore merchant. 

■When the son was four years old his father accepted a call to Fayetteville, 
near Syracuse, New York, where the boy attended the academy, and afterward 
served as clerk in a country store. Some time later the family removed to 
Clinton, in Oneida County, and Grover was a student at the academy there. 



G ROVER CLEVELAND. 



701 




*»' 



At the age of sixteen he became a clerk and assistant teacher in the New York 
histitution for the BHnd, in New York city, hi the same institution his elder 
brother, William, now a preacher, was also a teacher. 

Grover was an e.xcellent teacher, but yielding to ambition, he decided to 
go West, where he believed greater opportunities for mental growth and 
success awaited him. He stopped at Black Rock, now a part of ''the city of 
Buffalo, and called upon his uncle, Lewis F. Allen, who persuaded him to stay 
and help in the compilation 
of a volume of the "American 
Herd Book." He assisted in 
the preparation of several 
more volumes, and in Au- 
gust, 1855, became a clerk 
and copyist for the law firm 
of Rogers, Bowen & Rogers, 
in Buffalo. He took up the 
study of law and was admit- 
ted to the bar in 1859. 
Meanwhile his father died, 
and, that he might be able to 
support his mother, Grover 
remained three years longer 
with the firm at a moderate 
salary. 

His worth and ability 
had attracted favorable no- 
tice, and he was appointed 
assistant district attorne)' of 
Erie County. January 1, 1863, 
holding the office for three 
years. He was defeated in 
1865, as the Democratic 
candidate for district attor- 
ney, and became a law partner of Isaac V. Vanderpool, uniting, in 1869, 
with the firm of Lanning & Folsom. By this time he had attained marked 
success, and in 1870 was elected sheriff of Erie County. At the end ol 
his three years' term, he formed a law partnership with his intimate friend, 
Lyman K. Bass, who had defeated him for the district attorneyship, the firm 
being Bass, Cleveland & Bissell. Ill health compelled the retirement of Mr. 
Bass, when the firm became Cleveland & Bissell. It was very successful, and 
Mr. Cleveland's reputation increased. 

4> 





GROVER CLF.VELAND. 



■J02 GROVER CLEVELAND. 

One of the marked features of Mr. Cleveland's early public career was his 
great popularity when he appeared as a candidate for the suffrages of the 
people. Being nominated by the Democrats for mayor of Buffalo, in the 
autumn of 1881, he received the largest majority (3,530) ever given to a 
candidate in that city, although the Republican ticket was successful in other 
ilirections. He was supported not only by his own party but by the inde- 
];entlent and the "reform" movements. He tulhlled the expectations of his 
supporters, vetoing extravagant measure.s, and conducting his office in so 
prudent and economical a manner that he saved fully $1,000,000 to Buffalo 
during the first six months of his term. His course gave him such a popularity 
that in September, 1882, he was nominated for governor of the State. His 
opponent was Charles J. Folger, then Secretary of the United States Treasury. 
Both men had a record that could not be assailed, and the result was astound- 
ing. In a vote of 918,894, Cleveland received a pluralit)" oi 192,854, giving 
him a majority over his opponent, the greenback, prohibition, and scattering 
vote, of 151,742, the like of which was never before known in the PImpire State. 
'Ihe vote was so tremendous that it attracted national attention, and convinced 
the Democratic party that if the new governor made no blunder during his 
administration, he would be the most available candidate for the presidency. 

(Governor Cleveland made no blunders that could mar his prospects. He 
was able, honest, and whollv devoted to the interests of the .State. At the 
Democratic national convention, held in Chicago, in July, 1884, after se\'eral 
days devoted to organization and the presenting of the names of the candidates, 
he received the nomination, which he formally accepted by letter on the 1 8th ot 
August. 

Four candidates were before the country in November, 1884: Cleveland 
of New York,- the regular Democratic nominee ; James G. Blaine of Maine, 
Republican ; Benjamin F. Butler of Massachusetts, labor and greenback ; and 
John P. .St. John of Kansas, prohibition. One of those little incidents which 
can never be foreseen, and which often overturn the best laiil plans, led to the 
defeat of Blaine. At a public reception. Reverend Dr. Burchard, in addressing 
Mr. Blaine, referred to the Democratic party as that of "Rum. Romanism, ami 
Rebellion." Mr. Blaine did not catch the expression, or, as he afterward 
declared, he would have reproved it, but the mischief was done so far as he was 
concerned. The charge against him was used so skilfully that the Republican 
candidate lost the vote of New York by a trifling majority. 'Hiis gave Cleve- 
land 219 electoral votes to 182 for Blaine, while the popular vote stood: 
Cleveland, 4,874,986; Blaine, 4,851,081. 

President Cleveland was inaugurated on the 4th of March following, and 
called around him an able Cabinet. He proved himself sincere when he 
declared he would do his utmost to carry out the policy of civil service reform. 



GROVER CLEVELAND. 703 

This course alienated some of his supporters who beHeved in the doctrine that 
"to the victors belong the spoils," and who considered all ante-election pledges 
to the contrary as intended simply to catch votes, but President Cleveland 
adhered to the policy to the end, earning the respect of both parties by his 
courage and sincerity. He used the veto power with the same severity as 
when Mayor and Governor. He favored a reduction of the tariff, with the 
ultimate establishment of freer trade. 

A pleasing incident of President Cleveland's first administration was his 
marriage, at the White House, June 2, 1886, to Miss Frances Folsom, daughter 
of Oscar Folsom, the President's intimate friend. The whole country felt 
an interest in the happy event, and Mrs. Cleveland, as the leading lady 
of the land, has commanded the admiring respect of the nation and of all with 
whom she has come in contact. Xo more graceful or accomplished lady has 
ever presided at the White House. 

In the autumn of 1888, President Cleveland found himself pitted against 
General Benjamin Harrison, with the result that has already been stated. Of 
the popular vote, Cleveland received 5,540,329 and Harrison 5.439,853, while 
of the electoral votes, 168 went to Cleveland and 233 to Harrison. 

In 1892, the same gentlemen were the leading candidates and the verdict 
was reversed; Cleveland received 5,553,142 and Harrison 5,186,931 on the 
popular vote, while in the electoral college 276 votes went to Cleveland and 
145 to Harrison. It was the first time in our history that a President was re- 
elected after being out of office for one term. 

It is not the province of this sketch to give a history of the leading features 
of President Cleveland's administrations. A monetary stringency and a great 
depression of business were accompanied by a formidable railway strike which 
necessitated the calling out of the United States troops in several parts of the 
country. 

The time when President Cleveland "struck fire," however, was in his 
message to Congress, on December 1 7, 1895. England, whose " earth hunger " 
is insatiable, and who has appropriated land in all parts of the world, often 
without regard to right and justice, had disputed for years with Venezuela over 
the boundary between that country and British Guiana, obtained by England 
from The Netherlands in 1814. Learning that the interior of \'enezuela con- 
tains valuable gold mines, England set up a claim, which if allowed would have 
split Venezuela almost in half That weak country protested, but was power- 
less. England refused to arbitrate, but meant to win by the bullying course 
which she is so fond of adopting with feeble nations. 

The United States could not view with indifference this dismemberment of 
a sister republic on the American continent, for it would be a flagrant violation 
of the Monroe Doctrine enunciated in 1823, which declared in language not to 



704 JOHN SHERMAN. 

be mistaken that no part of Narth or South America from that time forward 
should be open for colonization by any foreign power. Lord Salisbury, the 
British prime minister, was slow in replying to the communications of our 
government. When his reply came, however, the President submitted it to 
Congress with the statement that the action Great Britain contemplated was 
a violation of the Monroe Doctrine, which it was the duty of the American 
Government to resist, and proposed the appointment of a commission by the 
President to determine the correct boumlary. 

This declaration, as we have stated, " struck fire." It was instantly 
responded to by an outburst of patriotic fervor from one end of the country to 
the other. The President was endorsed everywhere. In the North and -South 
the veterans were as eager as their sons to be led against their old hereditary 
enemy. President Cleveland was declared to Ije an American in tin- highest 
sense of the word, and an exalted patriot who had sounded the bugle to which 
hundreds of thousands of loyal spirits would respond. 

Evidently England had not reckoned on raising such a storm as this. .She 
found herself confronted by a nation that couUl not be bullied, a nation that 
was read)- to fight at "the drop])ing of a handkerchief" for principle. Great as 
wouhl be the calamity of a war between the two nations, it would be less a 
calamity than dishonor. The result is known. England was forced to make a 
virtue of necessity, and, with the best grace she could command, yielded to the 
inevitable, admitting that if the Monroe Doctrine is not international law, it is 
the abiding law of America and must be respected by all nations. And with 
this happy ending, it is to be hoped that England having learned more of us 
than she ever knew, the two great nations will hereafter remain friends. 



JOHN SHERMAN. 

GREAT FINANCIER AND STATESMAN. 

JoM\ SiiKKMAN is admittedly one of the ablest financiers and foremost 
statesmen of America. He was born May lo, 1823, at Lancaster, Ohio, and 
was the eighth of eleven children. He was the son of Charles Robert Sherman, 
who setdetl in Lancaster and took a leading part in the measures for defence in 
the war of 1S12. He was a prominent and respected citizen, who after serving 
for six years on the bench of the .Supreme Court of the State, died suddenly in 
the forty-first year of his age. 



JOHN SHERMAN. 



705 



During his childhood, John Sherman attended a private school at Lancaster, 
but in 1 83 1, his father's cousin, a prosperous merchant at Mount \'ernon, invited 
him to his home and offered to take charge of his education until he was fitted 
for Kenyon College. The youth studied faithfully for four years, but, instead 
of entering college, returned to his mother's home and attended the academy 
there. The family were in such straitened circumstances that John decided that 
it was his duty to give up the plan of going to college and to support himself 
instead. His elder brother 
gave him employment as 
junior rodman under the 
enuineer entraged in im- 
proving the Muskingum 
River. He improved his 
leisure by study, but at the 
end of two years lost his 
place through the sweeping 
political changes in the State. 
Returning to Lancaster with 
nothing to do, he fell for a 
time into bad habits, but 
touched by the grief of his 
mother over his lapse, and 
by a sense of manliness, he 
quickly rallied, and thence- 
forth was his own "master." 
Ever since that lapse. Sena- 
tor .Sherman has been a tem- 
perate man, and no one is 
more opposed to the drink- 
ing habit than he. 

In the autumn of 1839, 
it was arranged that young 
Sherman should study law 

at ALmstield with his elder brother Charles and with Judge Parker, who had 
married his mother's only sister. His industry enabled him to support himself 
while thus employed, and he had been a practicing lawyer for more than a year 
before his admission to the bar, which took place on the day that he attained his 
twenty-first year. 

On December 31, 184S, John Sherman was married to Miss Margaret 
Cecilia Stewart, only child of Judge Stewart. After their wedding tour, the 
couple returned to Mansfield and the husband applied himself arduously to his 




JOHN SHERMAN. 



7o6 JOHN SHERMAN. 

profession. His industry, ability and integrity brought him success, and in 1854 
he was elected a member of the House of Representatives. It was in that year 
that the Missouri Compromise was repealed, stirring up such a vehement revolt 
and uprising in the North, that the Republican party of to-day was born and 
brought into vigorous existence. Recently, when asked if he remembered his 
first speech, the distinguished Senator said : — 

"Yes; I remember it well. It was in the midst of the e.xciting Kansas- 
Nebraska times and there had been numerous changes in the personnel of the 
House. There were many young men among the new members. Matt Day, 
one of the founders of the Cincinnati Comnicrcial, was a member. He wrote a 
great deal, but did not speak much and was slightly deaf. He had scant regard 
for the sophomoric efforts of the young Congressman. On the day that 1 spoke 
I sat behind him. Day would listen with his hand at his ear, and the moment 
one had concluded, would say with a grunt of satisfaction : 

" ' Another dead cock in the pit.' 

" At last I saw a place where I thought I could make a good point. I 
jumped to my feet, got the .Speaker's eye and said my say. W'hen I was 
through and had sat down I said : ' Here is another dead cock in the pit, Mr. 
Day.' But Day replied : ' No, my young friend, I don't think it is quite so bad 
as that with you yet,' and he gave me to understand that I had another chance 
or so for my life." 

Mr. Sherman spoke frequently, and, despite his youth, speedily assumed a 
leading position among his associates. He was renominated in October, 1856, 
and triumphantly elected. He was one of the most active and vigorous workers 
in the presidential campaign of that year, and insists to-day that the Republicans 
would have been successful, had they placed Seward or Chase in nomination 
instead of Fremont. 

The career of John Sherman is another proof that it is brains and ability 
which bring success in this country. Chosen again in 1858, a member of the 
House, he had already become so prominent that he was placed in nomination 
for .Speaker. On the twenty-fifth ballot he came within three votes of election, 
but he eventually withdrew and Pennington was chosen Speaker by a majority 
of one. -Sherman was appointed chairman of the Committee of W'ays and 
Means, of which he had not previously been a member. 

Mr. Sherman had been elected a fourth time when Abraham Lincoln was 
placed in nomination for the presidency. He hail no more ardent and power- 
ful sujjporter than .Sherman. In a speech at Philadelphia, .September 12, i860, 
he made a number of remarkable prophecies, every one of which was fulfilled 
in the momentous events that speedily followed. 

It was February 23, 1861, that Lincoln arrived in Washington, and .Sherman 
met him at Willard's Hotel in the eveninLT, for the first time. " When intro- 



JOHN SHERMAN. 707 

diiced to him," says Mr. Sherman, "he took my hands in both of his, drew himself 
up to his full height, and looking at me steadily, said : ' \'ou are John Sherman ! 
Well, I am taller than you; let's measure.' Thereupon we stood back to back, 
and some one present announced that he was two inches taller than I. This was 
correct, for he was six feet three and a halt inches tall when he stood erect." 

Salmon P. Chase, having accepted the place of Secretary of the Treasury 
in Lincoln's Cabinet, his seat in the Senate was taken by Sherman, who would 
have preferred to remain in the House, to which he 'had just been elected for 
the fourth time and of which he was certain to be chosen Speaker. But having 
entered the Senate, Sherman steadily rose to his present exalted place in the 
regard of his countrymen. In that august body, he has towered for years, head 
anci shoulders above his distinguished associates, most of whom are of national 
reputation. 

It seems to be the law of this country that the greatest men in a political 
party fail to receive its highest rewards. The peerless Henry Clay was nomi- 
nated three times for the presidency but never attained it. ' Daniel Webster, 
longing with an unspeakable longing for the high office, died a disappointed 
man. If any Republican of the last quarter of a century was entitled to the 
presidendal nomination at the hands of that party, John Sherman is pre-emi- 
nently the man. More than once it was almost within his reach, but never quite 
grasped. It was his humiliadon to be forced aside, and see the honor bestowed 
upon men who were in the ranks when he was a leader, and whose ability was 
no more to be compared to his than is a bauble to a diamond. But his place in 
the honor and grateful recollecdon of the nadon is secure. 

Senator Sherman was foremost in financial and all other measures for the 
support of the Government, throughout the agony of the civil war. He personally 
recruited an Ohio brigade. He was chairman of- the important Finance Com- 
mittee for several years, and in 1S77 left the Senate to enter the Cabinet of 
President Hayes. It was during his administration of the Treasury Depart- 
ment that the resumption of specie payments took place, January i, 1879. 
With a foresight and skill that could not be surpassed. Secretary Sherman had 
made such careful preparations for this important step that when it took place, 
there was not the slightest jar or friction. It was in the natural order of things, 
effect following cause with perfect smoothness. 

Senator Sherman re-entered the Senate in 1881, and is there to-day, the 
same industrious, patriotic, sagacious, far-seeing statesman, whose utterances 
are read with profound interest in every corner of the land, the leader so emi- 
nent and able that none dreams of dispudng his supremacy, equally respected 
by political friends and foes, sdll in the prime of his magnificent mental powers, 
and so ereat in the truest meaning of the word, that when his farewell words 
come to be spoken, his loss will be felt throughout the nation. 




1 



THOMAS BRACKETT REED. 



THE GREAT "SPEAKER" AND DEBATER. 




THOMAS nRACKF.TT RKF.I). 



"How do you ini.x your 
paints ? " timidly asked an 
amateur of a distinguished 
artist. 



With brains, sir 



thundered the master of tlie 
brush. 

And, as we stated in 
our sketch of Senator John 
Sherman, this is preemi- 
nently the truth in American 
aftairs. .Social advantages, 
wealth and the aid of friends 
are not without their effect, 
but if the element of ability 
is lacking, the highest suc- 
cess is unattainable. Water 
finds its level, and the man 
who is thrown into the bust- 
ling arena of the House of 
Representatives can never 
attain the place of leader, 
imless nature has furnished 
him with al>ility, or in other 
words, with brains. 
Xo stronger proof can be given of this statement than is found in the 
career of I'homas Brackett Reed, who was born in Portland, Maine, October 
1 8, 1S39. He attended the common schools of the city, and was graduated at 
Bowdoin College in i860, being among the first in his class and taking the 
highest honors possible — the prize for excellence in English composition. He 
possesses rare gifts in this respect, his writings showing a clear, vigorous, but 
limpid style, which have brought him a national reputation, while his speeches 

708 



THOMAS BRACKET]' REED. 



709 



are eloquent, sparkling, logical, and corruscating with humor, sarcasm, and wit. 
No man surpasses him in readiness of repartee. No more enjoyable treat can 
be imagined than that of a debate in the House, where he is beset with all sorts 
of questions from political opponents. His instant replies are inimitable, and 
the man that can unhorse him in debate has not yet made his appearance, and 
is not likely to do so for an indefinite time to come. 

It was only the other day that a newspaper reporter, while looking for 
President Cleveland, stepped to the door of the House restaurant, and believ- 
ing he saw that distinguished personage, requested an attendant to bring him 
to him at the President's convenience. When the eentlenian came forward it 
proved to be .Speaker Reed. 

"I beg your pardon," said the correspondent; "I am looking for the 
President and mistook you for him." 

'■ For heaven's sake don't let the President learn of this," said the 
Speaker, with owl-like gravity; "he is already vain enough of his personal 
appearance." 

After his graduation. Mr. Reed taught in a Portland high school, studying 
law at the same time. He went to California in 186;^, expecting to make his 
home in that .State. He taught school there and began the practice of law, but 
at the end of the year, for family reasons, returned to Maine. In April, 1864, 
he was appointed acting assistant paymaster in the United States navy and 
assigned to dut)' on the gunboat Sibyl, which patrolled the Tennessee, Cum- 
berland and Mississippi rivers until the close of the war. He was discharged 
from the ser\ice in August, 1865, and returned to Portland, where he was 
admitted to the bar. 

His advance was rapid. He was interested from the first in politics, and 
his power and popularity were so marked, that, without his knowledge, he was 
nominated by his part)- in 1868, for the .State House of Representatives. His 
election followed as a matter of course, and his reputation as a brilliant lawyer 
going with him, he was placed on the Judiciary Committee. Maine was quick 
to see that she had secured the right man and re-elected him in 1S69, promot- 
ing him to the .Senate in 1870, but he resigned the senatorship to assume the 
duties of Attorney General, to which office he had been elected. Mr. Reed is 
the youngest Attorney General that Maine ever had. He held the office for 
three years, and added to his fame, during which he displayed courage, con- 
scientiousness and ability of a high order. 

He retired from office in 1873, and was appointed City Solicitor of Port- 
land, where his course was marked by the same devotion to duty that had dis- 
tinguished him when Attorney General. His name was well-known throughout 
the .State, and it was in the natural order of events, that, in 1S76, he was 
nominated for Congress in the district composed of Cumberland and York 



7IO THOMAS BRACKETT REED. 

counties. There was the bitterest fight conceivable against him, but by his 
indomitable energy and ability, he swept everything before him. It is a 
remarkable fact, that during this whole stirring campaign, the sum total of his 
traveling expenses, hotel parlors for delegates and cost for everything, was 
exactly $42.00. It may be doubted whether his subsequent nominations 
involved as much as that insignificant sum, for every year since, without a 
single vote against him in any convention, he has been enthusiastically renom- 
inated by his constituents. The leading Republican paper in Maine said : " Mr. 
Reed can represent his district in Congress for the rest of his natural life if he 
wants to : there's no question about that." His popularity made Mr. Reed the 
candidate before all others of New England for the Presidency in 1896, beside 
which, as has been shown, he had myriads of supporters in all parts of the 
Union. 

Mr. Reed took his seat in Congress, October 15, 1877, the House having 
been summoned in extra session to pass the army appropriations, which had 
failed at the closing session of the Forty-fourth Congress. It was a Democratic 
House and remained in session until the following June. Mr. Reed made his 
first speech April 12, 1878, and drew the attention of the House by his keen, 
convincing logic. 

At the beginning of his second term, Mr. Reed's abilities were recognized 
by his appointment as a member of the Judiciary Committee. His strength as a 
debater caused a number to vote for him as Speaker in the caucus of Decem- 
ber, 1881, and he was made chairman of the Judiciary Committee of the House. 
By that time, he was the recognized leader on the Republican side. He pre- 
pared and introduced a bill for the proper distribution of the Geneva award 
against Great Britain for the Alabama claims, and his accompanying report con- 
vinced the House that the bill was right and led to its passage. 

His great ability was recognized by political opponents as well as friends. 
Without soliciting a single vote, he was unanimously chosen in caucus, in 1887, 
as the Republican candidate for Speaker. The House being Democratic, how- 
ever, John G. Carlisle received the honor in the Forty-eighth and Fiftieth Con- 
gresses. Reed's turn came in 1889, when the Republicans had a bare majority, 
and, on the second ballot placed him in the Speaker's chair, he niceiving 166 
votes to I 54 cast for John G. Carlisle. 

There are few who are not acquainted with .Speaker Reed's career as pre- 
siding officer of the House of Representatives. For a time indeed he was the 
central figure in the eyes of the countr)'. There were many contested election 
cases and the Democrats used every means to obstruct legislation. It was im- 
possible to have every Republican in his seat at all times, to meet the constitu- 
tional requirement that there should be a majority present to do business. The 
Democrats refused to answer to their names at roll call, and the custom had 



CHARLES FREDERICK CRISP. 71 1 

always been for the Speaker, under such circumstances, to declare no quorum 
present. On January 29, 1890, when the Democrats had sat mute while their 
names were being called by the clerk. Speaker Reed coolly counted sufficient 
numbers "present but not voting," to constitute -a quorum. 

It was like a thunder clap from the clear sky. Pandemonium was let 
loose, and the Democrats, in a white heat of rage, protested and declared the 
proceeding unconstitutional and revolutionary. The Speaker, however, reso- 
lutely held to his decision and the business of the session which had been 
blocked so long moved forward, though it cannot be said without friction. The 
rule was finally adopted, F"ebruary 14, 1890. It was sustained by the .Supreme 
Court, and four years later, when a Democratic House was caught in precisely 
the same dilemma, it adopted precisely the same rule. Mr. Reed was chosen 
speaker again of the Fifty-fourth Congress, in December, 1895. 

Mr. Reed lives in a comfortable home at Portland, with his wife, the 
daughter of the Rev. Mr. Merrill, formerly pastor of a Congregational Church 
of that city. He has one daughter, who, at this writing is not yet out of her 
teens. He is popular with his neighbors, for he is genial, pleasant and charit- 
able, manly and courageous, and whenever he runs for office, is certain to receive 
a great many Democratic votes, for what American can help feeling proud of 
him? In the words of Henry Hall, he is "in many respects the greatest all- 
around man in the United States to-day, of stainless record and unimpeachable 
integrity, bold but safe, brilliant but wise, masterful but heeding counsel, and a 
fighter without fear." 



CHARLES FREDERICK CRISP. 

SOLDIER, DEBATER AND PARLIAMENTARIAN. 

Charles Frederick Crlsp, Democratic Speaker of the House, naturally 
takes his place beside Reed, the famous RepubHcan Speaker. Though the 
two gentlemen may differ in some respects, it cannot be denied that they 
resemble each other in their stainless integrity, their genial manner and their 
great ability. Like General Meade, Charles F. Crisp was born on foreign soil, 
though his parents were Americans, temporarily absent from their native land. 
Consequently their sons were as much Americans as if they first saw the light 
on Bunker Hill. Young Crisp was born January 29, 1845, i" Sheffield, England, 
where his parents had gone on a visit, but they returned to America before the 



7i: 



CHARLES FREDERICK CRISP. 



son was a year old. They maile thi-ir home in ( ieor^ia, and in that State the 
son has spent most of his life, with the exception of the brict space mentioned 
at the bei;innint,r. 

Young Crisp entered the Confederate service in May, 1861, having just 
turned his sixteenth year. He was a brave soldier and served with honor for 
more than three years, as an officer in the Tenth \'irginia Infantry. On May 
12, 1864, the fortunes of war made Lieutenant Crisp a prisoner, and his resi- 
dence was in Tort I )elaware 
until June 1865, when he was 
set free. 

Returning to Americus, 
Crisp took up the study of 
law and soon acquired a 
lucrative practice. In 1872, 
he was appointed solicitor- 
general of the southwestern 
judicial circuit and was re- 
appointed in 1873, for a term 
of four years. The Congres- 
sional Directory thus mod- 
estly sums up the puljlic 
career of Mr. Crisp: — 

" He located in Ameri- 
cus in 1873: in June. 1877, 
was appointed judge of ihe 
superior court of the same 
circuit; in 1878 was elected 
by the general assembly to 
the same office ; in 1 880 was 
re-elected judge for a term 
of four years ; resigned that 
office in .September, 1882, to 
accept the Democratic nomi- 
nation for Congress ; was permanent president of the Democratic convention 
which assembled in Atlanta in April, 1883, to nominate a candidate for governor ; 
was elected to the Forty-eighth, Forty ninth, I-'iftieth, I*"ifty-first, Fifty-second, and 
I'ifty-third Congresses, and re-elected to the Fifty-fourth Congress as a Demo- 
crat, receiving 8,503 votes, against 2,568 votes for George B. White, Populist ; 
was elected .Speaker of the House in the Fifty-second and I'ifty-third Con- 
gresses." 

It will thus be noted that Mr. Crisp entered Congress at the age of thirty- 




CHARI.KS rRKDIiKKK llilsl'. 



CHARLES FREDERICK CRISP. 713 

eight. He speedily took high rank in that body, and often, during his second 
term was called to occupy the chair in committee of the whole. He is one of 
the ablest parliamentary authorities, self-possessed debaters and best informed 
men in the House. He was a leading participant in the turbulent scenes of 
the Fifty-first Congress, when the only member as cool as he was Speaker Reed. 
His party never did a more appropriate thing than when, at the first opportu- 
nity, they placed him in the chair as Speaker, and it may be truthfully said that 
few if any occupants have displayed more ability and judicial fairness than he. 

Great as have been the public honors placed upon Mr. Crisp, the most 
pleasing picture of him is in his own home. He is liked by every one in 
Americus. When the news reached that town that he had been chosen .Speaker, 
a telegram was sent to him with the announcement that his friends had 
locked up the chief of police and all his officers for twenty-four hours and had 
taken possession of the place, that they might have a chance to gi\ e proper 
expression to their feelings. 

Mr. Crisp has been blessed with one of the best of wives, and they have 
had seven children, of whom onlv four are livintr. The eldest daughter is 
married, and the oldest boy is clerk to his father. Unhappily the mother, 
shortly after her marriage, was afflicted with rheumatic gout, from which she has 
never recovered. Her affliction seems to have drawn her children and husband 
closer to her, and the love borne by all for one another makes the home an 
ideal one. 

The house in the evening is "the resort of the young people of Americus. 
They come together to dance and sing and enjoy themselves. Although 
Speaker Crisp is neither a singer nor dancer, none finds keener enjoyment in the 
fun than he. He is very fond of young people, and it follows inevitably that 
they are equally fond of him. He is thoroughly happy, and holding as he 
does the esteem and respect of all his neighbors and acquaintances, and with 
the prospect of higher political honors awaiting him, ex-Speaker Crisp has 
no excuse for envying the fortunes of any man. 



JOHN GRIFFIN CARLISLE. 

TARIFF REFORMER, FINANCIER AND PARLIAMENTARIAN. 

John Griffin Carlisle was 
born September 5, 1834, in 
Campbell (now Kenton) 
County, Kentucky. His 
father, Lilbon H. Carlisle, 
was a farmer in a small way, 
who inherited a portion of 
the Carlisle farm, situated a 
few miles from Covington. 
The family originally came 
from Virginia. 

John Griffin was a stu- 
dious boy but considered 
indolent. He did not take 
kindly to manual labor, but 
was fond of books. He 
attended the public schools 
and received few educational 
advantages. That he im- 
proved his time is proved by 
tile fact that while he was in 
his teens, he was a successful 
teacher, but he had made up 
his mind to become a lawyer, 
and in 1855, he entered as a 
law student the office of [ohn \V. .Stevenson, at Covington. The father of 
Stevensson was Speaker of the House of Representatives and the son afterwards 
became Governor of Kentucky and United States Senator. 

In 1858, at the age of twenty-three, Carlisle was admitted to the bar. He 
quickly demonstrated that he was the possessor of a powerful and logical mind, 
and his success was assured from the first. In the following year, he was elected 
to the Lower House of the Kentucky Legislature. During the civil war, Mr. 

7'4 




JOHN CRIFFIN C.\RI.ISI.E. 



JOHN GRIFFIN CARLISLE. 715 

Carlisle was a Union man, thouo-h as he states, not an aeeressive one. He 
practiced his profession while the fighting was going on. 

In 1866, he was elected State Senator and resigned in 1871, during a 
second term, to become Lieutenant Governor. Five years later, he was elected 
to the National House of Representatives, and was Speaker from 1883 to 1889. 
He remained in the House until 1890, when he was chosen United States 
.Senator, to succeed Senator Beck, who had died. This office he resigned at the 
solicitation of President Cleveland, whose Cabinet he entered in March, 1893, ^^s 
Secretary of the Treasury. 

Such in brief is the public career of this distinguished son of Kentucky, a 
gentleman who to-day is one of the most remarkable men and influential poli- 
ticians in the Union. The appropriateness of his selection by President Cleve- 
land was recognized in every quarter, for from Mr. Carlisle's first appearance in 
Congress in 1879, he was accepted as authority on finance, and was the most 
successful leader that the Democrats have had since the war. The legislation 
of the three Houses over which he presided was unusually creditable. In the 
Fifty-first Congress, he succeeded in so weakening protectionist opposition that 
the Mills bill was passed, though his party had been unable to unite on the 
Morrison bill. 

It was Mr. Carlisle's report which in 1879 resulted in the revision of the 
excise laws and an equitable system of taxation. In 1881, he introduced an 
amendment which limited the power of the national banks to surrender circula- 
tion and protected the Treasury and the business of the country from the 
assaults which have been made by banks whenever there was a threatened reduc- 
tion in the interest on the public bonds held by them. 

Mr. Carlisle is six feet in height, with smooth-shaven face, bright blue eyes, 
and his appearance suggests that of a prelate of the Roman Catholic church. 
He is the pink of courtesy, and has been seen to give up his seat in a street car 
to a colored woman with as much grace as the late General Jo Johnston showed 
upon similar occasions. His voice is pleasant, and he is an attentive listener, 
with a heart so kind that his break down when Speaker was caused by his con- 
stant efforts to help the members who came to consult him regarding their bills. 
If he is lacking in one thing, it seems to be the power to refuse a favor, through 
his dread of hurting the applicant's feelings or doing him an injustice. All such 
persons reap the penalty of their open heartedness, and Secretary Carlisle is to- 
day a poor man, far different from many who have held public office. 

The story is told of him that when a blubbering Kentuckian, as he called 
himself, begged for enough money to take himself and family home, after they 
had been robbed, the Secretary handed him fifty dollars. A half hour later, the 
same man and half a dozen drunken companions rode past the Secretary's 
house, whooping and enjoying themselves to their fullest bent. 



7i6 JOHN GRIFFIN CARLISLE. 

Some of the Secretary's habits are not to be commended. He takes no 
exercise whatever. If his carriage does not call for him, he boards the street- 
car for his home. It has been said that tlie only jjossible e.xercise lie gets is 
when the street car is so full that he has to hang fast to a strap. 

But the most remarkable characteristic of Secretary Carlisle remains to be 
mentioned. It is his wonderful mental grasp oi complicated questions, a power 
which seems to be in the nature of intuition, lie will run through a mass of 
papers and extract the kernel, when other lawyers have only begun their inves- 
tigation. He will sit toying with a pack of cards and play solitaire, without 
making an error in the game and dictate the most important letters. After fifty 
such letters have been written he will listen to their re-reading, and, if a single 
word has been inadvertently changed, he will detect it as quick as a Hash. His 
skill in this respect is almost incredible. Major McKinley once remarked of 
him that he never had a clouded thought, and the facetious Senator Joe Black- 
burn said: 

" Carlisle is not entitled to half as much credit as I am. What I know I 
have had to stu.dv, die. sffub and toil for. Carlisle knows four times as much 
as I do. He has all the wisdom of the ancients and the moderns packed away 
in his head, anil whenever he opens his mouth great things and good things 
naturally roll out of it. He isn't entitled to any credit for them. He can't help 
it. He was born that way." 

Secretary Carlisle has long been the confidential adviser and intimate 
friend of President Cleveland. He has a charming home and is devoted to it. 
He was married January 15, 1S57, to Miss Mary Jane Goodson, belonging to a 
prominent family of Kentucky. His son Lilbon Logan is Iiis private secretary 
and is unmarried. His other son, William K., is married and has two or three 
small children with him at his home in the West. Both sons are bright and 
successful lawyers. Mrs. Carlisle is her husband's helpmate, looking after his 
health, not always a slight matter, and giving her aid and counsel in many 
important matters, while th(; Inisband, v.ith all his wisdom and ability, lully 
appreciates the inestimable service which such a wife is often able to render 
even in questions of public affairs and of state matters. 



\ 



LEVI PARSONS MORTON. 



BANKER AND STATESMAN. 

Levi Parsons MoRrox. 
although to-day worth many 
million dollars, was not 
born with a silver spoon in 
his mouth. Like many of 
the very wealthy men of our 
country, he was the son of 
poor parents, and hewed his 
way to success by his own 
industry, ability and resolu- 
tion not to stop short until 
that success was attained. 
His mother was the daughter 
of a clergyman, and his father 
was a clergyman, Daniel O. 
Morton, of Shoreham, Ver- 
mont, where Levi Parsons 
was born in 1824, being the 
fifth of six children. By great 
economy the preacher was 
able to send his two oldest 
sons to school, but young 
Levi slathered his first book 
instruction at the knees of 
his father and mother. After- 
ward he attended the common school for awhile, but at an age when many 
other lads are preparing for the academy or college, he started out to earn his 
own livelihood. 

About the only avenue open for youths of that class is the country store, 

which, however, has been the stepping-stone to success for more than one great 

man. Levi had barely reached his teens, when he was employed in selling 

sugar, tea, and all the odd knacks that may be found in a village store. But he 

42 717 




LEVI PARSONS MORTON. 



V 



7i8 LEVI PARSONS MORTON. 

was made of the right stuff, and at the end of a year he was promoted to a 
better paying situation in Enfield, Massachusetts, from which he drifted to Con- 
cord, finally landing at Hanover. In the last named place is a well known uni- 
versity. Unable to attend the institution himself, young Morton found the air 
of learning congenial, and he was delighted in his intercourse with the students, 
the professors, their wives and families. Not neglecting his business, he im- 
proved himself mentally to the utmost, and looks back upon that episode in his 
hfe as among his most pleasing remembrances. While a resident of Hanover, 
he cast his first vote for General Zachary Taylor, afterward President of the 
United States. 

In 1849, when twenty-five years old, Morton removed to Boston and made 
a profitable arrangement with the leading dry goods house of James Beebe & 
Co. At that time there was another young man connected with the house of 
Beebe & Co., Junius S. Morgan, who afterward became the head of the great 
banking firm in London. 

Morton and Morgan became close friends, and in 1S52, Morton was taken 
in as a member of the firm of Beebe & Co. Here he confirmed his reputation 
as a man of unusually keen business instincts, and added much to the success 
of the firm. There seemed, however, to be only one right place for the budding 
merchant and millionaire, and that was the metropolis of the country. Accord- 
ingly, in 1854, he left New England and associated himself with Mr. Grinnell, 
a New York merchant. The sign of Morton & Grinnell, commission merchants, 
was himg out on lower Broadway, then the centre of the dry goods trade of the 
city. 

In 1856, when thirty-two years old, he was married to Miss Lucy Kimball, 
who belonged to an old Long Island family. Ere long a commercial panic 
swept over the country, and all his hard earned savings were engulfed, but he 
never lost heart and kept his head so well above water, that in 1863 he was 
able to establish the banking firm of L. P. Morton & Co. It was the business 
to which he had long aspired, for which he was eminently fitted and in which he 
attained extraordinary success. His old friend, Junius S. Morgan, became a 
partner, and in 1869, Mr. George Bliss, who had always been very successful in 
the dry goods business, joined the firm with a large amount of capital, the style 
becoming Morton, Bliss & Co. Mr. Morgan soon retired, and, going to London, 
formed other connections. .Sir John Rose, who had been Minister of Finance 
in Canada, shortly after took charge of the New York firm's business in 
London, which was rapidly growing, and Morton, Rose & Co. soon became a 
power in that city. 

I*"rom 1873 to 1884, Morton, Bliss & Co. were the fiscal agents of die 
United States government, and were active in the syndicate that negotiated 
United States bonds for the refundinij of the National debt and the restoration 



LEVI PARSONS MORTON. 7,9 

of specie payments. A memorable transaction of the firm was the payment by 
check of ^15,500,000 on account of the Geneva award for the Alabama claims, 
and another of $5,500,000 on account of the fishery award. 

Mr. Morton was prominent in .society, and, in 1870, he bought " Fairlawn," 
a magnificent estate on Bellevue Avenue, Newport, where he gave many notable 
entertainments. In the following summer, however, he was afflicted by the 
death of his wife there. The blow was a severe one, and only after the per- 
sistent urgency of his friends he roused himself and entered more vigorously 
than ever into business. In 1873, he was married to Miss Annie Street, 
daughter of William I. Street, belonging to one of the oldest families in New 
York. The country place of the Streets was at Poughkeepsie, and, in defer- 
ence to the wishes of Mrs. Morton, her husband purchased "Ellerslie," a few 
miles above, which is one of the most palatial residences in this country. 

Mr. Morton is the type of the successful American merchants and bankers, 
whose peculiar training and mental equipment sometimes lead them to turn 
their attention to politics. Mr. Morton listened to the persuasion of friends, 
and, in 1878, accepted the Republican nomination for Congress from the 
Eleventh district in New York city. It was a Democratic stronghold, but Mr. 
Morton was successful and was re-elected at the conclusion of his first term. 
His strength was already so apparent that he was offered the nomination for the 
Vice Presidency on the ticket with Garfield. He declined and the honor went 
to Chester Alan Arthur, who, as is known, succeeded to the Presidency upon the 
assassination of the President. Garfield offered Mr. Morton the choice between 
Secretary of the Navy and the mission to France. The latter suited Mr. and 
Mrs. Morton and was accepted. The family removed to Paris in 1881, and re- 
mained until 1885, when Mr. Morton resigned to make way for Robert McLane. 
He made a most admirable record while in France, and this country was never 
more capably represented In Paris than by him and his family. 

In 1889, Mr. Morton became Vice President of the United States with 
Benjamin Harrison as his chief He won the same golden opinions while pre- 
siding officer of the United States Senate, and political opponents regretted 
scarcely less than political friends, his retirement at the end of four years. 

Mr. Morton had become too " available " a candidate for his party to allow 
him to withdraw from politics, and, though he had reached the age of three- 
score and ten, when he felt himself entitled to rest, he accepted the nomination 
for governor against Senator David B. Hill and defeated him by a majority of 
156,108, at the same election in which Cleveland carried the State against Har- 
rison. Governor Morton's term expires on the last day of 1896. At the be- 
ginning of the year, the Republican leaders of the State agreed to unite their 
efforts in pressing him for the Republican nomination for the Presidency. 

His worth and ability were proven long ago. He holds that the office is 



720 WILLIAM B. ALLISON. 

one too dignified for any person to seek or to decline. When the wife of Presi- 
dent Harrison died, Mrs. Morton became the leader of society in Washington, 
and there was never a more brilliant and popular leader than she. It was her 
innate graciousness, her infinite tact, and her kindness of heart, more than her 
beauty and l)rilliant accomplishments which won her the admiration and respect 
of all, as the foremost lady of the land. The parents have been blessed with 
five bright ami beautiful daughters, carefully trained and educated, fit com- 
panions all, for their noble mother and worthy father. 



WILLIAM B. ALLISON. 

CONGRESSMAN AND FINANCIER. 

WiLLTAM B. Ai.usoN, recently re-elected United States Senator from Iowa, 
is a native of Ohio, the commonwealth which of late years has furnished so 
many statesmen to the Union. Some time ago, in a chat with the late General 
Sherman, he remarked to the writer : " There's something singular about Ohio ; 
she has always a number of leading men at the front. Here at West l^oint, she 
has the largest number of members in the graduating class, and it has been so 
for years. The infusion of New England blood into that State seems to have 
produced the best sort of stock. General Grant was a native of the State, 
and," added the grim soldier with a smile, "if I wer'n't such a modest man, I 
miorht add that I also was born there." 

Mr. Allison was born in 1829, and was graduated from the Western Re- 
serve College. His first entrance into public politics, as he states, was in i860, 
when he was appointed one of the tally secretaries at the convention which 
nominated Abraham Lincoln for the Presidency. He was then practicing law in 
the little town of A.shland, near the centre of the .State, some fifteen miles from 
where that other famous son of Ohio, John .Sherman, was engaged in the same 
profession. Allison had removed to Iowa in 1857, where he found himself 
among many people from Ohio. It was as a delegate from Iowa that he 
attended the memorable convention which placed one of the greatest Americans 
that ever lived in nomination for the Presidency. 

" I sat right in front of George Ashmun, of Massachusetts," .said .Senator 
Alli.son. " He was president of the convention, and I believe that I gave him the 
first news of Lincoln's nomination. I kept footing up the figures as they came 



WILLIAM B. ALLISON. 



721 



in, and some time before the members of tlie convention were aware of the 
fact, I saw that Lincoln would be successful, and I turned about and told Mr. 
Ashmun of the fact. A few minutes later the convention realized it, and then 
ensued one of the most wonderful scenes in our history. The convention was 
held in the old wigwam in Chicago, and there were about ten thousand people 
•present. When the vote was announced a scream went up from thousands of 
throats and fully one thousand hats were thrown into the air. It rained hats for 
several minutes after the an- 
nouncement, and I can still 
see the hats rising and fall- 
ing. The people lost control 
of themselves, and I have 
often wondered what became- 
of those hats, for there was 
not much possibility of re- 
covering your hat in a mob 
like that." 

Although Mr. Allison 
was deeply interested in poli- 
tics from the first, and always 
inclined to the principles of 
the Republican party, he felt 
no special ambition to be- 
come a politician. Never- 
theless, his neighbors appre- 
ciated his ability, and he was 
nominated for Congress in 
1862. Samuel J. Kirkwood 
was then governor of Iowa 
and Allison was on his staff. 
Being directed to raise 
troops for the armies in the 
field, he organized three 

regiments in North Iowa in 1861, but was attacked by a serious illness which 
laid him up for a year. As soon as he recovered, he set to work again and 
raised three more regiments. He was then nominated for Congress by the 
conservative element of the Republican party. His opponent was a Demo- 
cratic editor of so pronounced secession proclivities that he was in jail by 
orders of the aggressive Secretary Stanton. Thus the issue was a straight 
one between the friends and enemies of the Union. 

Had all of Iowa's citizens been at home, Mr. Allison would not have 




felt 



722 WILLIAM B. ALLISON. 

the slig^htest misgiving as to the result, but the majority of the Iowa soldiers in 
the field were Republicans. In this dilemma, Allison persuaded Governor 
Kirkwood to call an extra session of the Legislature, which passed a law allow- 
ing the soldiers at the front to vote. Three commissioners were sent thither, 
the result being that Allison was triumphantly elected. The same system of 
soldier voting was afterward adopted by other .States in the North. Mr. Allison 
remained in Congress until 1871, and two years later was elected to the Senate, 
where he has remained ever since, being re-elected, as already stated, in 1896. 

From his first entrance into politics, .Senator Allison has been profoundly 
interested in financial matters, and there is no higher authority on that question 
than he. He was early appointed a member of the Appropriation Committee. 
His seat was near that of Congressman Garfield and he became the intimate and 
trusted friend of him and of Blaine. Despite his friendship for Mr. Blaine, he 
was also the valued associate of the most bitter opponents of the Maine states- 
man. This was a tribute indeed to the worth and ability of Allison. 

President Garfield was so impressed by Allison's attainments and complete 
mastery of financial questions, that, in the face of the strongest pressure from 
other quarters, he urged him to accept the portfolio of the Treasury. Allison 
would have done so, for the post would have been a congenial one to him, had 
it not been for the delicate state of his wife's health. .She was a brilliant and 
accomplished woman, but was an invalid whose existence depended upon her liv- 
ing a quiet, restful life. Because of this, the affectionate husband declined the 
offer. The nervous malady of his wife became intensified, and some time later, 
when she had become a victim to melancholia, sad to say, she took her own life. 

Mr. Allison enjoys splendid health, and is in the prime of his mental powers. 
His eye is bright, his complexion ruddy, and the iron-gray hair abundant. He 
is a handsome man, genial and fond of a good story, and he can tell one and 
join in the ringing laughter which greets a witticism. He is fond of books, art 
and travel, and is almost as familiar with the politics of Europe as with those of 
his own country. He is dignified and kindly without a trace of egotism or 
vanity. Senator Gear of Iowa, said of him: "There is nothing of a coward 
about Allison. He is cautious, but not cowardly. He has a stiff back-bone in 
him, and when the occasion demands, he always shows that he has convictions 
and the courage to support them. He has been in public life for a generation, 
and although he is sixty-seven years old, he looks and really is ten years younger, 
and in the prime of physical condition." 



DAVID BENNETT HILL. 



GOVERNOR, SENATOR AND POLITICAL LEADER. 

" I AM a Democrat," was 
the superfluous declaration 
of United States Senator 
David Bennett Hill, some 
time since, for, among all 
the leading Democrats of the 
country, there is no more 
pronounced party man than 
he. It was Samuel J. Tilden, 
the Sage of Greystone, who 
ten years before said to him : 
" You have never failed me ; 
you have always been loyal 
and honorable ; you can be 
trusted ; you are honest ; you 
have brains ; such men are 
rare. The American people 
appreciate power and manli- 
ness and ability, and you 
possess all three. I am 
proud of you. Whatever 
you do in public life, never 
forget that you are a Demo- 
crat." And Mr. Hill has 
never forgotten it. 

Caleb Hill was a Connecticut farmer, who removed to the State of New 
York early in the present century, and David Bennett, the youngest of five 
children, was born in 1843, i" the town of Havana, Schuyler county. His 
mother was a woman of rare intelligence and force of character, and her ex- 
ample and training had much to do with the success of her son in after life. 

David was a weak, sickly boy and his parents did not believe he would live 
to reach maturity. It is said that nearly every crone who met him had a habit 

723 




DAVID BENNETT HII.I.. 



724 DAVID BENNETT HILE 

of chucking him under the chin and solemnly remarking : " Poor boy, he will 
not be with us long, but I suppose he will be better off among the angels." 
" I don't want to be an angel," angrily protested the lad, who up to the present, 
has had his wish gratified. 

His weak health made young Hill a studious boy and he developed a 
marked talent for composition. He was the pupil always selected to read a 
composition or deliver a speech at school celebrations, and, when he was still 
quite young, many of the shrewd neighbors prophesied a brilliant future for 
the youth. At the age of seventeen years, he attended a political meeting at 
Watkins' Glen. He had just been graduated from the High .School, and like 
the others had gone to the Glen to listen to the address of a famous political 
orator. 

The orator did not appear, much to the disappointment of the multitude. 
When they were about to separate, the committee observed young Hill in the 
crowd, and aware of his skill as a speaker, urged him to go upon the platform. 
He consented and delivered a speech, full of good sense and displaying such 
a familiarity with politics that the audience was surprised and delighted. "He's 
made of the right stuff" remarked one of the old men, "he'll be heard from 
again." 

Fortunately by this time Hill had acquired sound health, and the old 
women and pessimists agreed that the time for his becoming an angel would 
have to be postponed indefinitely. 

His father died while he was a lad and his mother eked out a living as best 
she could from the heavily mortgaged farm. David contributed all the help he 
could, selling papers and candies on the New York Central Railway, before he 
had entered his teens. Having passed through the High School, he now en- 
tered a law office in Elmira and began the study of law. He was a hard stu- 
dent, and did two years' work in one, being admitted to the bar, when he had 
barely reached the age of twenty-one. l\vo months later he was appointed 
city attorney, and was thus fairly launched upon the sea of politics, where he has 
made a brilliant reputation. His sound judgment, his great ability and his 
aggressive nature caused him to forge to the front quickly, and he was selected 
as a delegate to the Democradc State convention in 1868. Two years later, he 
was elected to the legislature and attracted the attention of Samuel J. Tilden. 

At the expiration of his term. Hill returned to Elmira, where he became 
alderman. His record was so satisfactory, that he was nominated for mayor and 
defeated one of the most popular of Republicans. His course brought him before 
the State convention in 1882, and he was elected lieutenant-governor on the 
ticket which placed Grover Clevelaml in the gubernatorial chair. In 1885, he 
was chosen governor by a large majority, being re-elected, and holding the office 
until 1 89 1. In the latter year he was chosen I'nited States Senator, for the 



HENRY MOORE TELLER. 725 

term expiring in 1897. In the face of his earnest protest he was forced to take 
the nomination for governor in 1894, against Levi P. Morton. It was the 
Republican " landsHde " year, when there was no earthly hope of success for 
the Democrats, but Hill went into the canvass and fought to the end with his 
accustomed energy and skill. He had the determined support of a minority in 
the convention which placed Grover Cleveland in nomination for the presidency 
in 1892, and has often been named since in connection with that high office. 

Senator Hill has reached success by study, hard work, integrity, and the 
momentum of natural ability. He is not a brilliant speaker, and rarely are his 
addresses lit up by flashes of humor ; but they are solid, full of fact, and logical. 
He is extremely popular with his own party, which would be proud to honor him 
with any office within its gift. He is respected for his talents, and commands 
the attention of the Senate when he rises to speak. It is to his credit that he 
does not use tobacco in any form, and he never tasted liquor but once, which 
was simply to learn what sort of flavor the poison has. He is averse to female 
society, finding his greatest pleasure in his books and the company of his own 
sex. Now and then, there are mysterious reports of his engagement to some 
lady, but if ever he does take to himself a wife, it will be the most unexpected 
act of his life. 



HENRY MOORE TELLER. 

BUSINESS ORGANIZER AND CHAMPION OF SILVER COINAGE. 

Henry Moore Teller is of Dutch descent and was born at Granger, 
Allegheny county, N. Y., May 23, 1830. He received a good academic 
education, and while in attendance at the academy, taught school at intervals 
in order to help pay the expenses of his education. 

Having completed his course at the academy, he took up the study of law 
under the instruction of Judge Martin Grover, and was admitted to the bar, 
January 5, 1858, at Binghamton in his native State. Like many other young 
men, Mr. Teller formed the idea that the West offered a wider field for success, 
although his first move was not very far in that direction. He located at Mor- 
rison, Whitesides county, Illinois, and began the practice of his profession. He 
had been a hard student and was well grounded in his profession. He met 
with excellent success, but became convinced that he had not gone as far west 
as was best for him. Accordingly, in April, 1861, he emigrated to Colorado, 
which is still his home. 



726 



HEXRY MOORE TELLER. 




In that Territory, he found a congenial field for his ability and energy, not 
only in law but in business enterprises. The legal firm which he formed was 
H. M. & W. Teller. Fully alive to the vast possibilities of the new country, 
Mr. Teller became interested in its development. He originated and pushed to 
a successful issue the Colorado Central Railroad. He drew the charter and 
presented it to the Territorial legislature in 1865, and for five years he was presi- 
dent of the company. He infused his own energy and spirit in the manage- 
ment of the line, and eave 
new proof of his exceptional 
ability as an organizer and 
thorough railway manager. 
The finances could not have 
been conducted with better 
judgment and he quickly 
made the railroad the lead- 
ing one in the Territory. 

During the Indian 
troubles of 1863, Mr. Teller 
was appointed brigadier- 
general of the militia, serv- 
ing with much acceptability 
for two years, when he re- 
signed. 

Although originally a 
Democrat, Mr. Teller joined 
the Republican party in 1855, 
when it was in its infancy. 
He became a power in poli- 
tics, commanding the respect 
and confidence of all classes. 
He never sought office and 
did not seem to care for 
political honors, but in 1876, 
upon the admission of Colorado as a State, he was placed in nomination as one of 
the first United States Senators, and without any effort on his part, was elected. In 
drawing for the long and short terms, he secured the short one and took his seat, 
December 4, 1876. He was re-elected the same month, and served until April,, 
1882, when he was appointed Secretary of the Interior by President Arthur, serv- 
ing until March 3, 1885, when he was again elected to the United -States Senate 
to succeed Nathaniel P. Hill, Republican. Senator Teller took his seat, March 
4, 1885, to be elected once more in 1890. His term e.xpires March 3, 1897. 




HENRY MOORE TELLER. 



WILLIAM LYME WILSON. 727 

Senator Teller has long been a prominent Free Mason and Knight Tem- 
plar. He was Grand Waster of Colorado for seven years, and was also Grand 
Commander of the Knights Templar of the same State. His career shows his 
popularity with the people. His integrity has never been questioned. He is 
genial, with an attractive manner, laborious in his profession, and with a chari- 
table nature. More persons than would be suspected have received valuable 
aid at his hands, and the toiler, no matter how humble, knows that he has one 
of the best and truest friends in him. As a representative of the sentiments 
of Colorado, Senator Teller, it need hardly be said is a pronounced " silver 
man," as he has proved times without number in the warm debates and struo-- 
gles which have taken place during the last few years in Washington. His 
ability, forceful logic, and commanding courage have given him a national repu- 
tation and a popularity which places him at the head of the champions of his 
financial ideas, and with scarcely a rival in the great W^est. 



WILLIAM LYNE WILSON. 

SCHOLAR AND TARIFF REFORMER. 

William Lyne Wilson was born in Jefferson county, West Virginia, 
then a part of Virginia, May 3, 1843. His father Benjamin Wilson died when 
the son and only child was only four years old, and he was thus left to the 
care of his widowed mother. She trained him carefully, and having entered 
Columbian College, in Washington, D. C, he was graduated in i860, and the 
same year became a student at the University of Virginia. 

Those were stirring times, for the country was about to plunge into civil 
war. Young Wilson had been in the University less than a year, when, with 
the majority of students, he withdrew to enter the Confederate service, in which 
he remained until the final surrender at Appomattox. He then returned to 
Columbian College, in which he was appointed Professor of Ancient Languages. 
While meeting the duties of this honorable place, he studied law and was grad- 
uated from the law school of that institution in 1867. At that time the "test 
oaths" prevented any person who had served in the Confederate service from 
practicing in the courts of West Virginia, but the law was repealed in 1871 and 
Professor Wilson began the duties of his profession in Charlestown. He was 
chosen as one of the West Virginia delegates to the National Democratic Con- 



728 



WILLIAM LYME WILSON. 



vention in 1880, and as a State Elector at Large on the presidential Democratic 
ticket of that year. 

In 1882 he became president of the West Virginia State University, and 
two weeks later was nominated by the Democratic Convention of the Second 
District for Representative in Congress, and elected in the following November. 
He acted as president of the University from March 4, 1883, without salary, 
until he took his seat as a member of the Forty-eighth Congress, in December 

of that year. He served for 
six terms, but was swept 
under by the wave of Repub- 
lican successes in November, 
1894. Postmaster General 
Bissell having resigned early 
in 1895. President Cleveland 
nominated Professor Wilson 
as his successor, and he was 
promptly confirmed by the 
Senate. His appointment 
oave cjeneral satisfaction to 
all parties, for it was only a 
recognition of his extraor- 
dinary services in the cause 
of tariff reform. 

In 1893, Professor Wil- 
son was chairman of the 
Ways and Means commit- 
tee, and the tariff bill which 
he presented in that year 
and fought through the 
House, drew the attention 
of the entire country to him. 
No man ever wrought harder 
than he, toiling all day and 
far into the night, and none could have made a more vigorous, determined and 
successful contest upon the lloor of the House. When triumph came at last, he 
was carried on the shoulders of his shouting adherents, the scene being one 
which no witness can ever forget. His exhausting labors proved seriou.s, for his 
health broke down and it was a long time before he regained in any degree 
his usual strength. The " Wilson Bill," whose merits it is not our province to 
discuss, has taken its place in history and the author is acknowledged to be 
one of the brainiest and ablest members of his party. 




Wn.l.IAM LYNK WILSON, 



WILLIAM McKINLEY, JR. 729 

^ Professor Wilson is a small man, slender of frame, and barely five feet in 
height. His pale face is that of a student, and his fine hair is rapidly becoming 
white. Although wholly absorbed in his public duties while in \\'ashington, 
when he is at his home in Charlestov.m, West Virginia, he is a merry, rollicking 
boy among his own four sons, pro\'ided they are at home with him. He is the 
happy father also of two daughters and the family is an ideal one. Both he and 
his accomplished wife are Baptists, and when the news of his nomination to Con- 
gress reached him, they were at a prayer meeting. It was a case of the office 
seeking the man, and Professor Wilson has never in any sense of the word been 
a wire-puller. 

A little fact may be mentioned here : the small pale disk which Professor 
Wilson sometimes wears as a scarf pin, was struck two thousand two hun- 
dred years ago, by command of the founder of the Macedonian empire. It 
shows the profile of Philip, and is one of the rarest coins in existence, carrying 
us back to the luminous noontide of Greek civilization, which still glows for the 
student beyond the mists and shadows of encroaching centuries. 



WILLIAM McKINLEY, JR. 

TARIFF REFORMER AND GOVERNOR. 

William McKinlev, Jr., was born in Niles, Trumbull County, Ohio, 
January 29, 1843. His father was a German by birth and lived to his 85th 
year, his mother, of Scotch descent, being still alive at this writing. William 
was the third son. The eldest, David, is a resident of San Francisco, where, 
until 1894, he was the Hawaiian Consul General to the United States. The 
second son, James, died a few years ago, and Abner, younger than William, is 
engaged in business in the city of New York. 

When five years old, William attended the village school at Niles, continu- 
ing his studies at a more advanced school at Poland, whither his parents removed 
in order to obtain better educational advantages for their children. When not 
quite sixteen, William was sent to the Allegheny College at Meadville, Pa., but 
fell ill and had to return home. When he recovered, he began teaching school, 
receiving ^25 a month and "boarding around." He was thus engaged, when 
the country was thrilled by the news that Fort Sumter had been fired upon. 
Instantly the pale-faced, gray-eyed student, flung aside his books and enlisted as 



730 



WILLIAM McKINLEY, JR. 



a private in the war for the Union. It was patriotism of the loftiest nature which 
inspired the young teacher. He was mustered in at Columbus in June, by 
General John C. Fremont, who thumped the young man's chest, looked in his 
clear eye, and surveying him from head to foot said : " You'll do ! " 

Young McKinley was attached to the Twenty-third Ohio Volunteer 
Infantry, and remained with it to the close of the war. Durino- that 
period, he served on the staff of Brigadier General Rutherford B. Hayes, 

afterwards President of the 
United States, on the staff 
of the famous Indian fighter, 
General Crook, and sub- 
sequendy on that of Briga- 
dier General Hazen. He 
was in all the engagements 
in which his regiment took 
part, and was made a .second 
lieutenant directly after the 
battle of Antietam, upon the 
urgent recommendation of 
General Hayes. He became 
first lieutenant, February 7, 
1863, captain, July 25, 1864, 
and was breveted major by 
President Lincoln for gallant 
conduct on the fields of 
Opequan, Fisher's Hill and 
Cedar Creek, being mus- 
tered out with his reoriment, 
in July, 1865. 

Thus at the age of 
twenty-two, Major McKinley 
was a fire-tried veteran of the 
war for the Union, with a 
record to which he can always refer with patriotic pride. 

But the war was over, the Union restored, and the modest young man, 
without pausing to boast of his deeds, entered upon the study of law. He was 
graduated from the Albany (N. Y.) Law School, and settling in the litde town 
of Canton, Ohio, waited for his clients to come to him. They straggled thither, 
and fortunate were all who secured the services of the brilliant, conscientious, 
and learned lawyer. His ability attracted the attention of Judge Belden, who 
invited him to a partnership with him, and the connecdon lasted until the death 



i 

1 




wii.i.iAM mckini.i;y, jr. 



WILLIAM McKINLEY, JR. 731 

of the Judge in 1870. His townsmen showed their appreciation of the young 
man by electing him, in 1869, prosecuting attorney of Stark county, an office 
which he held for a number of yours. He had already established his reputa- 
tion as a powerful jury lawyer and one of the best speakers in the State. 

At the age of thirty-three, the people of his district elected him their repre- 
sentative in Congress, his re-election following until 1890, when, through the 
gerrymandering of his district, he was defeated by a small 'majority. From 
January, 1892 to January, 1894, and again until January, 1896, he was Governor 
of Ohio, his election being among the most notable triumphs of his career. 

While in Congress, McKinley was a member of the Committee on Revision 
of Laws, the Judiciary Committee, the Committee on Expenditures in the Post 
Office Department, and the Committee on Rules. Upon the nomination of 
General Garfield for the Presidency, McKinley took his place on the Committee 
on Ways and Means, serving with the committee for the rebt of his time in 
Congress. It was while he was chairman that he framed the " McKinley Bill," 
which still bears his name. This tariff act became law, October i, 1890, and 
provided for a high rate of duty on an immense number of articles imported 
from foreign countries, but made sugar free. Its purpose was to reduce the 
national revenue and to increase protection. 

The work involved in the preparation of this bill is almost inconceivable. 
It contained thousands of items and covered every interest in the country. For 
four weeks, while the House was in session, he was almost constantly upon his 
feet, answering numberless questions, meeting objections and giving informa- 
tion. With the exception of two minor amendments, it passed exactly as it 
came from the hands of the committee. 

A correspondent of the New York Press thus describes the man : " Quiet, 
dignified, modest, considerate of others, ever mindful of the long service of the 
veterans of his party, true as steel to his friends, unhesitating at the call of 
duty, no matter what the personal sacrifice ; unwavering in his integrity, full of 
tact in overcoming opposition, yet unyielding on vital party principles, with a 
heart full of sympathy for those who toil, a disposition unspoiled by success and a 
private life as spotless as self sacrificing, he stands before the American people 
to-day as one of the finest types of courageous, persevering, vigorous, and 
developing manhood that the Republic has ever produced." 

A peculiar proof of Major McKinley's exalted sense of honor was given 
at the dead-lock in the presidential convention of 1888. A movement on the 
fourth ballot suddenly set in in his favor, which could have been readily turned 
into a stampede. But he was there as the pledged friend of Senator John 
Sherman, and nothings could swerve him from his allegiance. He checked the 
movement at its beginning, and those who would have tempted him turned 
back at sio-ht of that earnest countenance and at the ringing tones of that 



732 CHAUNCEY MITCHELL DEPEW. 

eloquent voice. Almost precisely the same thing- was repeated four years later 
at Minneapolis, when the nomination would have assuredly gone to him, had he 
not peremptorily checked it, and ordered the delegates from his own State to 
vote as they had been instructed. The history of recent years shows that not 
many placed in the situation of Major McKinley were able to come out of it 
unscathed and without the smell of fire upon their garments. 

A man like Major McKinley could not fail to make an ideal husband, when 
blessed as he is with an ideal wife, llolh of their children died in infancy, and 
the wife is an invalid, but though their silver wedding was celebrated in January, 
1896, no lovers were ever more chivalrously devoted to each other than are 
they, now that they have reached the meridian of life. Mrs. McKinley is as 
staunch a protectionist as her husband, and is firmly persuaded that no man 
quite so good and great has ever been born. When he is expected at home, 
she is at the window watching for him. His last act is to kiss her on the thresh- 
old, followed by a turn and salute when about to pass out of sight. No 
sweeter picture can be imagined than this couple, whose whole life is the most 
emphatic contradiction of the sneer that "Marriage is a failure." The two are 
members of the Methodist church, and, should they ever be called to the 
highest station in the gift of the American people, it is certain that none will 
wear the honors more worthily than they. 



CHAUNCEY MITCHELL DEPEW. 

THE APOSTLE OF SUNSHINE AND CHEERFULNESS. 

Chauncev Mitchell Detew was born at Peekskill, N. Y., April 23, 
1834. His remote ancestors were French Huguenots, who founded New 
Rochelle, in West-chester county. His father, Isaac I^epew, was a prominent 
antl highly esteemed citizen of Peekskill, and his mother, Martha Mitchell, was 
a representative of the distinguished New England family, one of whose 
members, Roger Sherman, was a signer of the Declaration of Independence. 

Chauncey spent his boyhood in Peekskill, where he prepared for college. 
He was a bright student, and at the age of eighteen entered Yale College, from 
which he was graduated in 1836, with one of the first honors of his class. In 
June, 1887, Yale conferred upon him the degree of LL. D. It will be noted 
that Mr. Depew reached his majority at about the time of the formation of the 
Republican party. Although of Democratic antecedents, he had been a close 



CHAUNCEY MITCHELL DEPEW. 733 

student of politics and his sympathies were with the aims of the new political 
organization, to which he speedily gave his alleo-iance. 

Mr. Depew studied law in his native village, and was admitted to 
the bar in 1858. In the same year, he was elected as a delegate to the 
Republican State convention, this being an acknowledgment of die interest 
he had taken in the party, and the skill and energy he had shown in 
advocating its policy. He began the practice of law in 1859, and was highly 
successful from the first. 
Few men of the present day 
are so gifted with eloquence, 
wit, and the power of giving 
an instant and happy turn to 
the most unexpected inter- 
ruptions or occurrences. In 
his early manhood, his strik- 
ing power as a stump 
speaker, his readiness at re- 
partee, and his never failing 
good humor, made him a 
giant in politics, to which he 
was literally forced to give 
attention. But with all these 
extraordinary gifts, he could 
launch the thunderbolts of 
invective against wrono- and 
stir the profoundest depths 
of emotion by his appeals. 
He loved liberty and hated 
oppression, and has always 
believed that the United 
States of America is the 
happiest and greatest coun- 
try upon which the sun ever 

shone. His patriotic speeches are models of eloquence and power. 
y In i860, he took the stump for Abraham Lincoln and added greatly to his 
reputation as a ready, forceful and brilliant pleader for that which he believed to 
be right. No speaker was so welcome as he to his audience, whether composed 
of scholars, of business men, or of the uneducated masses. He was sure to say 
somethine entertaininor, somethinor instructive and something worth remember- 
inof. He was never dull; he was logfical and luminous, and no matter how 
lengthy his addresses, he was sure to be greeted with cries of " Go on ! go on ! " 
43 




CHAUNCEY MITCHEI.I. nEPEW. 



734 CHAUNCEY MITCHELL DEPEW. 

at their conclusion. It cannot be denied that he contributed much to the suc- 
cess of that memorable election. 

In 1 86 1, Mr. Depew was nominated for the Assembly in the Third West- 
chester County District, and although the constituency was largely Democratic, 
he was elected by a handsome majority. He fully met all the high expectations 
formed, and was re-elected in 1862. By his geniality, wit, integrity and courtesy 
he became as popular among his political opponents as among his friends. He 
was made his party's candidate for Secretary of State, direcdy after the Demo- 
crats had won a notable triumph by the election of Horatio Seymour as gov- 
ernor ; but by his dash and brilliancy and his prodigious endurance (he spoke 
twice a day for six weeks), he secured a majority of 30,000. So admirably did 
he perform the duties of the office that he was offered a renomination, but 
declined. 

During the administration of President Johnson, Secretary of State -Seward 
appointed Mr. Depew Minister to Japan, but after consideration, the offer was 
declined. He seemed to have decided to withdraw from politics and to devote 
his time and energies to his profession. That shrewd railway man and financier. 
Commodore Vanderbilt. had watched the career of Depew, and had formed a 
strong admiration for him, while the eldest son, William H. Vanderbilt, became 
his firm friend. In 1866, Mr. Depew was appointed the attorney of the New 
York and Harlem Railroad Company, and three years later, when that road was 
consolidated with the New York Central, he was made the attorney of the new 
organization, being afterward elected a member of the Board of Directors. 

As other and extensive roads were added to the system, Mr. Depew in 
1875, was promoted to be general counsel for them all, and elected to a direc- 
torship in each of the numerous organizations. The year previous, the legisla- 
ture had made him Regent of the State University, and one of the Commission- 
ers to build the Capitol at Albany. 

In 1884, the United States senatorship was tendered to Mr. Depew, but he 
was committed to so many business and professional trusts that he felt compelled 
to decline the honor. Two years before, William H. Vanderbilt had retired from 
the presidency of the New York Central, and in the reorganization Mr. Depew 
was made second Vice-President. The President, Mr. Rutter, died in 1885, and 
Mr. Depew was elected to the presidency, which office he still holds. 

His previous experience had made him thoroughly familiar with all the in- 
tricacies and minuti;e of the immense business, its policy, its relations with other 
corporations, its rights, responsibilities and limitations, and none was so well 
equipped for the responsible post as he. "The basilar fact in Mr. Depew's 
character is a profound and accurate judgment, and this asserts itself in all his 
manifold relations with men and affairs, and in every effort he puts, forth in any 
direction. Practical common sense, tact, an exquisite sense of the proprieties, a 



CHAUNCEY MITCHELL DEPEW. 735 

singular aptitude for business, and an intuitive appreciation of the value of 
means with reference to their ends, are manifestations of this iudo-ment ; and if 
we add a strong will, great executive ability, untiring industry, and instinctive 
love of order, and a readiness to adopt the best method, an intellect of astonish- 
ing range and remarkable promptness in the solution of intricate problems, we 
have a correct estimate of the qualities which place him in the first rank of rail- 
way managers." 

At the National Republican convention of 1888, New York voted solidly 
for Mr. Depew as its candidate for the Presidency, but he withdrew his name. 
At the convention at Minneapolis in 1892, he was selected to present the name 
of President Harrison, and made one of the best speeches of his life. When 
Mr. Blaine resigned as Secretary of State, President Harrison urged Mr. Depew 
to accept the place, but after a week's deliberation, he felt obliged to decline the 
honor. 

It is impossible in a sketch like this to do justice to the remarkable versa- 
tility of Mr. Depew. His admirable addresses would fill several bulky volumes. 
As an after dinner speaker, he is without a peer, and his wit, logic and eloquence 
never fail him. What could be more apt than his words, when, upon entering 
a public hall where a number of leading men were straining themselves to 
prove the Christian religion a delusion and a sham, and there were instant and 
clamorous calls for him, he said : " Gentlemen, my mother's Bible is good 
enough for me ; have you anything better to offer? " And then with touching 
pathos and impassioned words he made an appeal for the religion which they 
reviled, which must have pierced the shell of more than one agnostic heart 






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